“He was glancing at your flivver—remember?”
“Well, there wasn’t anything so extraordinary about that,” Brent said, as he gathered up the supper dishes. “Many people have paused to inspect it. I will presently announce a new surprise myself. Meanwhile, shall we do the dishes, or leave them till we’ve returned from the movies?”
“Well,” I said, “that’s that. Maybe there’s nothing so mysterious about it. But I have other matters to tell you about.”
“I’ll tell you how it is about Rivers,” Tom said. “He’s always been a kind of a wandering adventurer, as I gather. He might have drifted to Bridgeboro and heard about this camp business and asked you about it.”
“Very likely,” I acknowledged.
Still, Tom seemed thoughtful as he sat on the uncovered end of the table, whistling and swinging his legs. “When Charlie drifted in here I never asked him much about himself; I was glad enough to get anybody. I understood he came from Canada. You can see yourself how he works.”
“And that’s that,” I said.
“That’s that,” said Tom. “I don’t know anything about Heinie either, if it comes to that.”
“I think he is remotely descended from Germans,” Brent said. And we all laughed.
“Then there’s another thing,” I said. “Have you got those targets, Brent?”