“Now I was only in a rowboat and I wouldn’t know where a speed boat went,” replied the barber. Then, seeing the chagrin on Bob’s face, he added, “I’d almost be willing to bet that it was heading for Lost Island.”
Bob saw a queer expression flit across the sheriff’s face.
“I might have known that’s where such a boat would be going,” he groaned. “Why couldn’t it be toward some other island?”
“I wouldn’t know,” grinned the barber, who sensed that the sheriff was in Atalissa on some important mission. Bob saw the barber scanning his coat and he wondered if the gun in the shoulder holster was visible. If it was, it would reveal instantly that he was an officer, and not the vacationer that the sheriff had pictured him to be.
“Guess we’ll be getting a boat and heading south,” said the sheriff. “Just don’t say anything to anyone else on what you saw this morning.”
“Not a word, sheriff,” said the barber, and they left the small shop.
“Queer fellow,” nodded the sheriff as they proceeded down the street toward a wharf. “He knows everything that’s going on and he protects a lot of people, but when some outsiders come in and start breaking the law, I can always figure he’ll tell me the truth.”
“What do you make of it?” asked Bob.
“I’d say that the more men you can get in here, the better it will be. Emil knows something queer is going on at Lost Island and it was just his way of telling me to get there in a hurry. But I don’t like that place. It’s too lonesome and it’s so big a man can get lost on it for days.”
“I didn’t know there were any islands that large along here,” replied Bob.