“Yes, he lives there with his nephew.”
“We saw neither of them. In fact, the old hotel building seemed to be locked up.”
“Jabowski has orders not to leave the island without notifying me,” Mr. Manheim said, frowning. “He must be there.”
To Mr. Hatfield and the Cubs it became obvious that the information they had brought was displeasing to the island owner. Apparently to end the interview, he arose and said:
“Now don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get in touch with Jabowski and have him ascertain that the island is free of trespassers.”
“Thank you, Mr. Manheim. We wouldn’t have troubled you only—”
“No trouble at all,” Mr. Manheim interrupted the Cub leader. “I always like to help out the Cubs or Scouts. Fact is, I’ve been thinking for several weeks I’d like to give ’em a bang-up time—a regular jamboree.”
“Jamboree?” Mr. Hatfield repeated, rather mystified.
The island owner ignored the Cub leader, turning to Brad, Dan and Chips.
“How would you boys like a beach barbecue? A really big affair?”