“So we decided to go up to the city and ask Mr. McKay who it was had taken the Brownell place. Instead of Mr. McKay we found his secretary, Higginbotham, who professed to know nothing about the matter. Yet, when we arrive down here, we find Higginbotham in the radio plane, visiting a schooner well off shore.
“Say, fellows,” he added, as having dropped the last article of clothing, he stood prepared to plunge in; “that man Higginbotham must have left his office immediately after we interviewed him, and probably came down by motor car. We spent two or three hours longer in the city, which gave him the chance to beat us. Now what brought him down here?”
“Search me,” said Bob. “There may be a big liquor plot, and he may be in it. Probably, is. Perhaps he was alarmed at our inquiries and hurried down to keep things quiet for a while.” 62
“That’s just what he did, Bob, I do believe,” said Jack, approvingly. “I believe you’ve hit it.”
“Oh, well, come on,” said Bob. “Let’s have this plunge.”
Scooping up two handsful of wet sand he flung it at his companions. Then the fight began.
Forty-five minutes later, as they strolled across the lawn of the Temple home, Della came running to join them from the tennis court where she was playing with a girl visitor.
“Where have you been?” she cried. “Some man has been calling for the three of you on the telephone. Two or three times in the last hour.”
“Calling for us, Sis?” said Bob. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He hasn’t given his name. I believe he’s calling from New York.”