Michael stared for a second; then in a flash he got it! “Why you can see for yourself,” he said, a new note in his voice. “It was taken the day these yachts came in—last Saturday afternoon. They come into the harbor the second Saturday in July every year. Here, you can see where the last of them is just coming inside the breakwater!”
The other nodded. But the man beside the desk spoke suddenly: “How do we know this here picture wasn’t taken Sunday morning when the boats went out?” he inquired.
Michael laughed at him; it was his old light-hearted, ringing laugh. “Well, you ought to know, sir,” he said, “that you can’t face inland and have the sun in your face on Fishers Haven Beach in the morning! The yachts leave early; the sun would have been behind us instead of in our faces. Besides the position of the sails in the picture shows which way the boats were moving. If they’d been going out——”
“All right,” the officer interrupted. “That’s all. Charge dismissed.”
“Oh,” Eve cried, “and he won’t have to go to court tomorrow!”
“That’s right,” the officer said with something that approached a smile. He turned to Mr. Templeton and the two conferred together. I caught the name of Bangs.
Michael came toward us; he was actually embarrassed. But the familiar quirky smile played about his lately solemn countenance. He had come from the farm just as he was and didn’t even wear a coat over his turned-in blue shirt. “I thought I told you,” he said with the pretense of a scowl, “that I didn’t want you mixed up in this!”
“Are you angry with us?” Eve asked demurely.
“Furious! And besides, I never am any good at saying thank you!”
“Then don’t,” retorted Eve. “Anyway it was all Aunt Cal’s doing. She was the one who first saw what the picture might do for you.”