Once outside, Rick grinned at Scotty. "So you're wondering where Connel has gone?"
"Aren't you?"
"Sure. But why not ask the others what he said when he excused himself?"
Scotty shook his head. "They didn't think much of our theory about Connel causing our troubles, did they? If we asked, they'd think we were pushing the same point too hard."
Rick agreed. "Where did he go?"
"I don't know. But if he leaves the hotel, it will be by jeep. There's nothing within walking distance. If we get out back of the pump shed we'll see him if he comes out."
"Aye, aye. And if he jeeps out of here, we'll be on his tail. Roger?"
"You said a Brantish mouthful. Let's go."
A quick reconnaissance disclosed no sign of the geologist outside, and the boys hurried across the dark parking lot to the shadow of the pump shed. A police officer materialized from the darkness and greeted them courteously. "Good evening, señores. A sus órdenes."
By placing himself at their orders, the officer was politely asking their business, Rick knew. He replied, "We came out to see if anyone had made another try for the dynamite, Señor Teniente." Calling the officer "lieutenant" was a form of flattery.