Steve smiled his thanks. "Well, now you can guess why I showed up with a hunk of artillery under my wing. I had to be sure there wasn't a reception party waiting. You never can tell about information leaks, no matter how careful you are, so I landed at the back end of the island with a squad of men and we went over the place with a fine-tooth comb. I didn't walk in until I was certain there wasn't a stranger on the island—including strangers you might not have known about."
Hartson Brant rose. "Well, I think we've settled all initial details except where we put the Millers—or rather, the Morrisons. Can you bring them tomorrow?"
Steve rose, too. "As Rick and Barby said, I didn't have any doubts. How about tonight?"
"Tonight!" Barby gasped. "Are they here?"
"Almost. They're on a cutter offshore. If it isn't convenient, I can keep them overnight."
"Of course it's convenient," Mrs. Brant said firmly. "We'll put Mr. and Mrs. Morrison in John Gordon's room. He's still out West. And we'll take the spare twin bed out of Hobart Zircon's room and put Janice in with Barby. Bring them ashore right away, Steve. Barby and I will get busy, and Rick and Scotty can move the spare bed."
"Wonderful." Steve walked out to the porch and coughed twice. Rick hurried to his side just in time to see one of the trees in the orchard yield up a dark shadow that turned out to be a Coast Guard petty officer, carbine at the ready and a walkie-talkie slung over his shoulder.
"Let me have your horn, Smitty," Steve requested.
The coastguardman gave Rick a curious look as he handed Steve the phone.
The agent said, "Nevada, this is Texas. Deliver the goods."