“Step in this way, please.”
So Tom stepped unhesitatingly from the road, and walked toward the voice, at the same time demanding:
“Are you the one who handed me a note?”
“Yes, but not quite so loudly, please.”
“Why not?” challenged Halstead, simply.
“Well, because our business is to be—er—well, confidential.”
Tom Halstead found himself standing before a tall, slim, well-dressed young man. More than that he could not see in the partial darkness, so the young skipper struck a match and held it up.
“Here,” exclaimed the stranger, hastily, “what are you doing?”
“Trying to get a better idea of you, and whether you are in the least ashamed of your business with me,” Tom replied, quietly.
The stranger, who proved to be red-haired, stood more quietly, gazing intently at this composed young motor boat boy.