“Y-yes.”
“Do you also work for Mr. Eaton-Smith?” Vicki asked casually.
As he had on the street in Ybor City, the old man grasped her hand and stammered, “M-Miss Barr—I feel that you’re my friend—the—the only friend I have—” His eyes were pleading in his ashen face.
At that moment the clerk reappeared with Mr. Tytell’s package. The old man fumbled nervously in his pocket to get the money to pay for it.
So the old man really is in trouble, Vicki thought. But how could he possibly be connected with Duke and Eaton-Smith—and the man in the pirate cloak?
“Mr. Tytell, did you leave a message in the plane that day for me? A travel folder?”
“Y-yes. And you found it!” For a second his eyes lost their frightened look. “Miss Barr—I—I need help. I have to talk with you.”
“Then let’s find a quiet place and talk,” Vicki said soothingly.
“No, no. Not now.” He looked furtively out into the street. “Mr.—Mr. Duke is waiting for me. In his car down at the corner.”
The old man lowered his voice to a whisper. “When do you fly again to New York, Miss Barr?”