“Think we can locate Morgan Eves once we get up there?”
“Sure,” Drake said. “It’s just a little post office, general store and cabin proposition. It won’t be any trouble at all.”
The rain had ceased by the time Drake’s operative pulled the car to a stop and entered the general store and post office. Clouds which had been drab and gray had broken into patches of dazzling white, between which showed the deep blue of a clear California sky. Huge redwoods glistened with moisture as shafts of sunlight streamed through the clouds.
Drake’s operative came out of the store, climbed in behind the wheel and said, “Follow this road half a mile, take the first turn to the left, and it’s the first cabin on the left.”
As they traveled over the dirt road, bits of wet gravel thrown up by the tires clattered against the mud guards. Drake said, “Perry, this is once you do all the talking. I do all the listening. Remember not to take any chances with this chap. He packs a rod and is dangerous.”
Mason nodded.
The driver slowed down, cautiously turned the car, shifted gears and said, “This must be the place.”
They inspected a rustic cabin under the trees, slabs of bark covering the outside.
“There’s a fire in the fireplace,” Drake said, indicating a stream of light blue smoke which drifted upward from the chimney. “Someone’s home.”
“All right,” Mason said, “let’s go.”