“Maybe you thought so,” Bill smiled wryly. “I didn’t.”
“Aw!—Say, what’s become of Osceola and the two Heinies?”
“I’ll tell you the dope later. Never mind that now. I want to know how you happened to land in New Canaan at this time of night—and chased by a gang of thugs who don’t mind trying to pot you! What’s the big idea?”
“Oh, all right, all right. Keep your shirt on!” Charlie yawned again. “After the big doings in Washington, Mother and I went up to our summer place at Marblehead. Dad didn’t come with us. He stayed in Boston. Let’s see—today is Tuesday—”
“Wednesday morning,” interrupted Bill, with a glance at his wristwatch. “It’s after two.”
“K-rect. Well, last Friday night Mother got a telegram from Dad, telling her to send me up to Clayton, Maine.”
“Why, that’s the burg near Twin Heads Harbor where we got the Flying Fish and the Amtonia!” exclaimed Bill in surprise.
“Yep, that’s the dump. Well, Mother didn’t want to let me go alone—but I went, just the same. Dad said in his wire that nobody should come with me. Of course, Mother had a fit, but Dad had said it was important. Anyhow, I got to Clayton Saturday night, and Dad met me with a car at the station. He told me he had bought a house near the shore, so we drove over there.”
“Is the house anywhere near Twin Heads?”
“Yes, it stands back from a small cove about a mile south of the Heads. Baron von Hiemskirk’s old quarters at the other end of Twin Head Harbor are about three miles away through the woods, I guess. And say, Bill, that sure is some queer house!”