“Very good, sir,” the detective returned. “Unless the man is very crafty, I believe we may be able to trap him within a few weeks.”
After Heiney had gone, Jack and Penny went down to the dock together to retie the Spindrift. The wind had shifted, and with the water level rising, the boat was bumping against its mooring post.
“By the way, Jack,” said Penny as she unfastened one of the ropes to make it shorter, “I forgot to congratulate you upon winning the race this afternoon.”
“Skip it,” he replied grimly.
Penny glanced at him, wondering if her ears had deceived her.
“Why, I thought you were crazy-wild to win,” she commented.
“Not that way.” Jack kept his face averted as he tied a neat clove hitch. “I guess I made myself look like a heel, didn’t I?”
For the first time Penny really felt sorry for the boy. Resisting a temptation to rub salt in his wounds, she said kindly:
“Well, I suppose you felt justified in asking for the trophy.”
“I wish I hadn’t done that, Penny. It’s just that Sally gets me sometimes. She’s so blamed cocky!”