It seemed as if every resident of the town swarmed in the narrow street

A BIFF BREWSTER
MYSTERY ADVENTURE

MYSTERY
OF THE
CARIBBEAN
PEARLS

By ANDY ADAMS

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK

CHAPTER PAGE I [Discovery!] 1 II [Seeing Double] 5 III [Backfire] 12 IV [Who’s Fooling Whom?] 19 V [Appear and Disappear] 28 VI [Crunch] 37 VII [Gay Curaçao] 43 VIII [Uncle Charlie Spins a Yarn] 48 IX [Outmatched] 55 X [Plan of Action] 61 XI [Biff Meets Crunch] 70 XII [Double Chance] 75 XIII [Turnabout] 82 XIV [A Talk with Crunch] 88 XV [Almost Away] 95 XVI [A “Magic” Alarm] 102 XVII [Reunited] 112 XVIII [All Set To Dive] 118 XIX [Pearl Diving] 125 XX [Enemy Invasion] 133 XXI [A Gay Deception] 140 XXII [Dashed Hopes] 147 XXIII [Dietz Again] 154 XXIV [Attack from the Deep] 159 XXV [A Double Find] 167

MYSTERY OF THE CARIBBEAN PEARLS

CHAPTER I
Discovery!

Lightning streaked the skies over the Windward Islands. The Caribbean Sea was a tumbled mass of foaming, angry waters.

The chabasco had struck with the quickness and lashing fury that is the nature of this most feared of tropical storms. A chabasco strikes without warning, with tornado-like violence, whirling and smiting and soaking. The storm ends as abruptly as it begins. The air regains its calm. Only the churned-up waters continue to smash upon the shore.

A final, brilliant flash of lightning revealed the gaunt figure of a man stumbling through the raging surf, fighting to reach the safety of the beach. He staggered out of the roiling waters and fell face down on the sand. His only motion was the agonized heaving of his shoulders as he gasped for breath.

His boat, his diving gear were gone, smashed to bits by the wildness of the storm which had washed him ashore on this tiny speck of an island. The island, he knew, was in the Baie du Trésor, Treasure Bay, off the east coast of the big island of Martinique.

As strength flowed back into the man’s body, he sat up. Frantically he shot his hand into a pocket of his wet, worn, sun-bleached dungarees. An expression of relief crossed his face. In the faint light of a rising moon, he inspected the two objects in the upturned palm of his hand.

He held two perfectly matched black pearls.

This was the end of his search, the end of weeks under the blazing sun of the Caribbean; the result of hundreds of dives to the bottom of the sea. He knew, and he had the evidence in his hand, that he had made a discovery which would startle the entire area of the Caribbean Sea from the Florida keys to the coast of South America.

He had discovered a pearl fishery so fabulous, so unbelievably rich, that his find would make headline news throughout the world.

He knew also that unless he could keep his find secret until his claim on the pearl fishery was established, treasure seekers and money-mad cutthroats would descend on him like hungry sharks.

He felt sure that his actions and explorations had been secretly watched. He knew who the watchers were—unscrupulous men waiting hungrily to move in and jump the claim he had struggled so hard to find.

His first problem was to get off this tiny speck in the bay and back to Martinique. He was no more than five miles off the shore of the main body of the big island. If he had reckoned his position correctly, there was a long spit of land jutting out from Martinique that he could reach by a two-mile swim. He would need to rest. Calm now, he settled into the sand to sleep.

When the man awakened, the light of a brilliant tropical morning proved that he had been correct in determining his position. The sandspit jutted out, welcoming him. Farther beyond he could see the lush, green-covered pitons rising in the center of Martinique. Some of these peaks reached a height of nearly four thousand feet.

The man began his long, slow swim. He had no fear of the sea—though he knew sharks abounded in these waters, and he was unarmed.

But by midmorning he had reached the mainland of Martinique safely. He was pleasantly tired from his long swim, and stretched out on the warm sands to rest and allow his clothing to dry.

In the early afternoon he reached the town of La Trinité, sprawling at the approach of Presqu’île de la Caravelle, the peninsula that formed the Baie du Trésor.

He found a room in a small pension, a rooming house, and spent most of the night writing two letters. One of them was addressed to his son in The Netherlands. The other was to Charles Keene on the island of Curaçao in the Netherlands Antilles.

Along with the letters, he carefully prepared two small boxes.

In the morning, he was standing at the post office door the moment it opened. It was with great relief that he saw his letters and packages go into the mailbag that would be trucked over the pitons to Fort-de-France at noon, then flown on to Curaçao on the night flight.

In his relief and great elation over his discovery, the man shed the characteristic watchfulness that usually marked his movements. He momentarily had dropped his guard, and did not notice that his every action had been closely followed from the moment he had arrived in La Trinité.

CHAPTER II
Seeing Double

The cablegram was short and to the point.

MAY I BORROW MY FAVORITE NEPHEW FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS STOP URGENT.

It was signed, “Charles Keene,” and had been sent from Willemstad, Curaçao, in the Netherlands Antilles.

Biff Brewster, the favorite nephew referred to in the cablegram, looked at his parents hopefully.

“Well, Martha, what do you think?” Thomas Brewster asked Biff’s mother, as the three of them stood in Mr. Brewster’s study.

“Oh dear! I really don’t know what to say.” A frown spread over Mrs. Brewster’s pleasant, friendly face, drawing her arched eyebrows closer together. “It seems to me that Biff is away from home so much of the time.”

“I know, dear. But you must admit that we have encouraged these trips. I still feel that travel is as important to a boy’s education as his formal schooling,” Tom Brewster replied to his wife’s mild protest.

“And Uncle Charlie says it will only be for a couple of weeks,” Biff put in. “My spring vacation starts next week. I wouldn’t be missing much school—only a day or two at the most.”

Biff looked from his mother’s face to his father’s. He wanted so much to go. In his mind’s eye, he was already seeing the sparkling waters of the Caribbean Sea, dotted with palm-studded islands, long white beaches, and coral reefs.

The Windward Islands, the Leeward Islands, Martinique, Aruba, Barbados, Guadeloupe, St. Kitts—all these colorful, romantic, exciting names raced through the boy’s head.

“How’s your Spanish these days, son?” Tom Brewster asked.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’m scoring well in it at school, and of course I picked up a lot more Spanish when we were in Mexico.”

Biff was beginning to feel easier. His father’s question was an indication that one-half of his parents was considering favorably Uncle Charlie’s cabled request.

“How ’bout it, Mom?” Biff pressed the opening his father had given him. “You know Uncle Charlie and I always get along swell. We’re a good team.”

Charles Keene was Mrs. Brewster’s brother.

“Charlie’s so reckless, though,” Mrs. Brewster continued in a voice registering protest. “If I remember correctly, you and he barely made it out of China before getting into serious trouble.”

Biff had no answer to this statement. It was all too true. He and Uncle Charlie had been flown out of China—they had slipped across the border illegally—to Rangoon in Burma and then on to the British Crown Colony of Hong Kong, with Chinese Red agents breathing down their necks.

“Any idea what your brother is doing in the Caribbean?” Mr. Brewster asked his wife.

Biff’s mother shook her head. “Not any more than you have, Tom. Have you heard from your uncle, Biff?”

“Only one letter since we got chased out of China,” the boy replied. “That came about a month after I got back home. All he said was that things were too hot for him to operate in the Orient for a while.”

“He is still with the firm of Explorations Unlimited, isn’t he?” Mr. Brewster asked.

“Oh, yes. Uncle Charlie said the company was negotiating a contract that would have him operating in this hemisphere. He didn’t say what kind of operation it was, though.”

“It must be tied in with his wanting you to come to Curaçao, son.”

“Looks that way, Dad. What about it, Mom?” Biff looked hopefully at his mother. She didn’t reply for a few moments. Then she said, “Well, I suppose—”

Mrs. Brewster never finished her sentence. The youngest members of the Brewster family burst into the study.

“Mom! Dad! It’s a cablegram!” eleven-year-old Ted Brewster shouted, waving an envelope over his head.

“Yes! Another one,” Monica, Ted’s twin sister, chimed in.

The twins were five years younger than Biff. Their ambition was sometime, someday to travel “a-lone,” as they emphatically put it. They listened goggle-eyed to tales of the adventures Biff and his father or Biff and Uncle Charlie had shared. On several occasions the twins had gone with their parents and brother to the romantic places where these adventures had taken place. Mrs. Brewster, always present when the twins were voyaging, had taken great care to see that her two youngest were not exposed to the dangers that had accompanied Biff’s far-away adventures. Ted and Monica could hardly wait until they were old enough to take part in them themselves.

“It’s for you this time, Biff,” Ted said. Excitement shone on his young face. His eyes sparkled.

“I’ll wager I can tell you who it’s from,” Mr. Brewster said, smiling.

“Uncle Charlie! Uncle Charlie!” Monica pealed, like a gay bell.

Biff ripped open the envelope. The room became silent.

“It’s from Uncle Charlie all right,” Biff said. Then he read: “YOUR PASSAGE BOOKED SOUTHERN AIRLINES FLIGHT ONE TWO NINE TO MIAMI SUNDAY MARCH TWELVE. RE-PLANE MIAMI FOR CURAÇAO CARIB AIRWAYS FLIGHT TWO NINE SIX. BE SEEING YOU. LOVE TO ALL.”

Biff handed the cablegram to his father and looked at his mother.

“I must say my brother takes things pretty much for granted,” Mrs. Brewster said, laughing.

“That’s Charlie for you,” Tom Brewster said. “When he goes into action, he moves fast.”

“He surely does, Dad, whether it’s against Chinese bandits or sending cablegrams,” Biff agreed.

“One cable this morning. A second this afternoon. Well, I guess we’d better be making up our minds, Martha. What do you say?”

“Can we all go?” Ted wanted to know.

“Oh, yes, I’d love to go to the West Indies,” Monica pleaded.

“I’m afraid it will be just Biff this time,” their father said. “Providing, of course,” he added hurriedly, “your mother approves. Well, Martha?”

Martha Brewster shrugged her shoulders and smiled. She was still torn. But she had great confidence in her son’s ability to take care of himself. He had proved this time and time again. And Charles was her favorite brother, reckless though he was.

“All right, Biff darling. I might as well give in now as later. I know you and your father won’t give me a moment’s peace until I do.”

Mrs. Brewster’s statement was met with cheers led by Ted and Monica. Biff crossed the room and put an arm around his mother’s shoulders. She pressed her head against her strong son’s chest.

The conference in the Brewster home in Indianapolis, Indiana, came to an end.

Sunday morning at ten o’clock found the Brewster family at the Indianapolis airport. Flight 129, southbound for Miami, had already been called. The last hasty farewells were said, and ten minutes later the plane speeding Biff southward became a mere speck in the sky to his mother and father and the twins.

The plane zooming Biff to another adventure landed at the Miami airport in the late afternoon. Coming in over the city of fabulous hotels, America’s playground, Biff could see the lingering rays of the setting sun slanting out over the bouncing waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

From Carib Airways, Biff learned that the flight which was to take him on to Curaçao was not scheduled to depart until midnight. After a dinner of delicious stone crabs, Biff wandered up and down Lincoln Road, the famed shopping center in Miami Beach, gazing into the windows of the shops which lined the streets.

He left Lincoln Road and swung on to Collins Avenue. One hotel after another, each in turn seeming more luxurious than its predecessor, lined the east side of the avenue, between the street and the white, sandy beach.

The night air was warm and gentle in contrast to the cold, blustery March winds Biff had left behind him in Indianapolis.

Biff returned to the airport shortly after eleven, reclaimed his baggage, which he had checked, and waited for his flight to Curaçao to be called.

The call came just ten minutes before midnight:

“Carib Airways announces the departure of Flight two nine six, for Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Willemstad, Curaçao, and Fort-de-France, Martinique. Now loading at Gate Nine. All aboard, please.”

Biff joined the line which was moving slowly through Gate 9. He looked carefully about him, as he always did, spotting faces that he might run into again. He had learned in the past that it was wise to remember as much about one’s fellow passengers as possible. No telling when such knowledge might come in handy. Besides, he found the faces of traveling people interesting. On many long rides, he had amused himself by trying to guess where they had come from, where they were going, and why.

The line shuffled slowly forward. Flight 296 was filled. There would be no seats for the hopeful standbys.

Biff had checked his heavier bag through earlier, when he had presented his ticket. Now he carried only a small, light dispatch case. Accidentally, as the person directly in front of him stopped suddenly, Biff’s dispatch case swung forward, striking the person on the calf of one leg.

“Pardon me,” Biff said.

The person turned around. Startled, Biff stopped quickly. He even backed up a step in his amazement.

“Am I seeing things?” Biff asked himself, giving his head a shake and blinking. “Am I asleep? It can’t be. It just can’t be.”

The person Biff stared at returned his stare. The same astonishment spread over the face of the boy he had bumped.

Biff’s own mirror at home couldn’t have reflected his image better. He might have been looking at himself!

CHAPTER III
Backfire

Neither boy spoke, so startled were they by their striking resemblance to one another.

“This can’t be,” Biff said, half aloud. “That boy is—is—ME!”

The other lad must have been thinking the same.

“Step forward, please,” the gate attendant called out sharply. “Keep the line moving.”

In their astonishment, Biff and his double had stopped in their tracks.

Dazedly, Biff and the other boy reached the gate. They presented their tickets. The attendant looked from one to the other.

“Twins?” he asked, a smile on his face.

Still apparently unable to speak, the boys shook their heads.

They walked across the apron leading to the waiting aircraft. As they walked along, side by side, each cast quick, questioning glances at one another.

It was unbelievable!

The boys were the same height. Both were broad of shoulder. Both carried their well-muscled bodies with the grace and posture of the trained athlete.

The only immediately noticeable difference distinguishing the boys was their clothing. Biff was hatless, as always. The other boy wore a hat. Biff wore light gray slacks, a soft sleeveless sweater, and a loose sports coat. His double wore a tight-fitting, dark-blue suit and a white, high-collared shirt. His clothes were as formal as Biff’s were informal.

They mounted the loading ramp and entered the plane. The stewardess gave them the same interested, friendly look the gate attendant had given them.

“I’m sure you two will want to sit together,” she said. “You’re twins, aren’t you?”

“No, ma’am,” Biff gulped.

The stewardess seated the boys, disbelief showing in her eyes as they shifted from the face of one boy to the other. She started moving toward the door, but kept turning her head to cast a look at the boys.

Biff was seated next to the window. His seat companion arose, removed his hat, and placed it on the rack above. His hair was cropped short, as Biff’s was. It was a shade darker, perhaps, but just a shade. Biff’s habit of going hatless could have made the difference.

On close examination of the boys’ faces, there was one noticeable difference. Biff’s eyes were bluish-gray. The other boy’s were a deep blue.

Biff turned in his seat to confront his companion.

“Since we look so much alike,” Biff said, “maybe we’d better find out who we are. I’m Biff Brewster. So you can’t be. I mean, if I am Biff Brewster—and I know I was until I saw you just now—then you must be someone else.”

Biff was having a hard time trying to say what he meant. He wasn’t exactly sure just what he meant.

The other boy smiled.

“I am glad to make your acquaintance, Biff Brewster,” he said quite formally. “My name is Derek Zook. I am from The Netherlands.”

Derek’s English was good with hardly any trace of accent. His phrasing, somewhat stiff and formal, marked it as Continental, not American, English. It was obvious that he had acquired his knowledge of the language at school. His sentences didn’t have the free and easy swing of a native language.

“Where are you going?” Biff asked.

“I go to Willemstad in Curaçao. That’s in the Netherlands Antilles.”

“Yes, I know,” Biff replied. His astonishment continued to grow as the coincidences grew. “I’m going there too. Here we are. We look alike, and we’re going to the same place. Now how about that!” Biff laughed. Derek joined in the laughter.

For the next few minutes the boys were quiet as the aircraft taxied to its take-off runway. The four engines revved up. The plane started rolling slowly down the strip. It rolled and rolled, gaining momentum. Then it was airborne, heading out over the Atlantic toward Port-au-Prince, Haiti, nearly eight hundred miles away.

During the flight, Biff and Derek became more and more friendly. They had much in common, but Biff noticed during the conversation that while Derek was most willing to talk about his home in The Netherlands, his schooling, and other, incidental topics, he said nothing about why he was going to Curaçao.

Biff was cagey, too. If Derek wouldn’t talk about the reason for his flying across the Atlantic to visit a speck of an island in the Caribbean, then Biff felt it wise to say as little about his own visit as possible.

There wasn’t much Biff could tell, anyway. He wouldn’t know why his Uncle Charlie wanted him until he saw him. Biff did tell Derek that he was going to be met by his uncle, but he didn’t tell his new friend the kind of work Uncle Charlie did.

The plane flew high over the easternmost tip of Cuba. Near three o’clock in the morning, Haiti was spotted, a dark, shadowy mass in the grayness of the dawn. High up over the Haitian mountains, the sky could be seen lightening on the eastern horizon. Neither boy saw it. They had talked themselves out and were sleeping.

The plane went into a sharp descent for its landing at Port-au-Prince. There was an hour’s delay before the plane took off on its next leg, the two-and-a-half hour flight to Curaçao.

Derek was the first to stir. Biff opened one eye, closed it again, and settled down into the seat.

“Do you know our time of arrival, Biff?” Derek asked, his voice clear and wide awake.

“’Bout seven,” Biff mumbled sleepily. “Let’s get some more shut-eye.”

“Shut-eye? I do not understand,” Derek said, puzzled.

“Sleep,” answered Biff. “Good old sleep. But I can see this is the end of it for now.”

Wide awake, the two boys chatted in low voices until the island of Curaçao, fifty miles off the coast of Venezuela, came into view.

The island is less than forty miles long and not more than seven miles wide at its broadest point. From the air, it looked like a long splinter. To the south, the boys could see the mountainous coastline of oil-rich Venezuela.

The plane began a long, gradual descent for its landing at Willemstad. It came in low, seemingly only a few feet above the spanking waves of the Caribbean Sea. It shot over land and, minutes later, the crunch of the aircraft’s rubber-tired landing wheels was felt throughout the plane.

As the plane rolled to a stop, an idea hit Biff. “Hey, Derek. I’ve got a plan,” he exclaimed. “A good one. I’d like to play a joke on my uncle.”

“Good, I like jokes, Biff. What is it?”

Biff didn’t answer right away. Some of the excitement and eagerness faded from his face. “I just thought—somebody must be waiting to meet you, so I guess my idea wouldn’t work.”

“I’m not sure anyone is going to meet me, Biff. In fact, I’m almost certain no one will.”

Biff was so busy thinking about his idea that the significance of Derek’s reply didn’t register. Only later did he remember the remark, and realize how strange it was that Derek, who had come thousands of miles, had no one to meet him.

“In that case then,” Biff went on, “here’s what I have in mind. We look so much alike, I’d like to try and see if we can fool my uncle. So, if you’re game, here’s my plan. You get off the plane first. Go right into the terminal. If you look as much like me as I think you do, and as others do too, then Uncle Charlie will think you’re me.”

A grin came over the Dutch boy’s face.

“That does sound like fun. I’d be Biff Brewster to your uncle, wouldn’t I?”

“That’s right. I’ll stay in the plane until you’re in the terminal. I’ll follow you in about five minutes.”

The passengers were piling out of their seats now, reaching up to the racks above for their hats and coats. Derek retrieved his hat, turned to wink at Biff, and started toward the front of the plane.

“Hey, Derek!” Biff called. “Wait a minute.”

Biff got up and overtook his new friend.

“’Fraid Uncle Charlie would spot you in a second if you wore that hat. He knows I never wear one.”

Derek took off his hat and handed it to Biff.

“Another thing,” Biff continued. “Your coat. Looks too European for me to be wearing it. Let’s change.”

Derek doffed his suit coat and put on Biff’s sports jacket. Then he left the plane.

Biff, grinning in anticipation, waited until almost everyone was off the plane. Then, wearing Derek’s coat and hat, he deplaned and walked toward the terminal.

As he stood at the entrance to the terminal, it took several moments for Biff’s eyes to adjust from the bright glare of the outside sun to the soft light of the terminal’s interior. He looked about, trying to spot his uncle. He finally saw him, to the right, standing in front of a cigar counter, smiling as he talked to Derek.

Biff was starting toward his uncle and Derek when two men entered the terminal from the street side. They looked around quickly, saw Biff, and came hurriedly over to him.

“Derek Zook?” one of the men asked.

Before Biff could protest or explain, the other man grasped him firmly by the arm.

“We must hurry. Your father is waiting.”

Biff found himself being hustled toward the terminal exit.

CHAPTER IV
Who’s Fooling Whom?

Biff was wedged tightly between the two men. They pressured him toward the exit. He could have resisted, probably could have escaped in the crowded terminal, but since they were moving in a direction that would take them right past Uncle Charlie and Derek, Biff decided against a struggle.

He saw that his uncle was watching the action closely. Derek, fortunately, had his back turned. Biff’s “friendly” captors would not be able to see Derek’s face and remark the striking resemblance.

Within a few feet of Uncle Charlie and Derek, Biff decided to make his move. He opened his mouth to shout. Uncle Charlie fixed his eyes firmly on Biff and shook his head. A big wink from Uncle Charlie warned Biff further to take no immediate action. Uncle Charlie tossed his head, gesturing toward the exit door.

Biff read these signals as quickly as if his uncle had given them to him verbally. Uncle Charlie wanted him to go with these men. Why, Biff didn’t know, of course, but he realized that his uncle must have a real purpose behind his strange action.

Outside the terminal, Biff was hustled into a black limousine. It was a long, sleek-looking foreign car, all windows tightly closed. Was this to prevent any outcry from being heard, Biff wondered? Or was it simply because the car was air-conditioned against the tropical heat?

As the car pulled away, Biff quickly glanced out of the rear window. He hoped to see his uncle pulling out in another car to follow. The streets, filled with tourists, honking cars, and cyclists blocked his vision. “Well, he must be following me,” Biff said to himself. “I hope,” he added.

Biff was in the rear seat with one of the men. The other was driving.

“You had the good trip from The Netherlands?” the man asked.

“From where?” For a moment Biff had forgotten the role he was playing; forgot he was impersonating Derek. “Oh, yes. Yes, very good,” he replied. “It was quite exciting, flying over the ocean.” Biff was careful not to mention which ocean.

“And your father, so anxious to see you, he is,” Biff’s seat companion said.

“Why wasn’t he at the airport?” Biff asked. He had decided to play along with these men. So far they had shown no outright enmity, had displayed no threatening signs. Even so, Biff felt certain that should he try to leap from the car, he would be forcibly detained.

“He is not well. His explorations at the bottom of the sea have exhausted him.”

One more bit of information, Biff thought. Now he knew that Derek’s father was searching for something on the ocean bed. What? Sunken treasure? These waters had been plied by pirates in the olden days.

“He will welcome what you have brought him,” the man said.

Now just what could that be, Biff asked himself. This man obviously was trying to pump him—trying to get him to reveal some information.

“It is important to his search, no?” the man continued.

“Come on, now,” Biff thought. “You don’t think I’ll fall for that leading question.” From the cautious manner of the man’s questioning, it occurred to Biff that the man himself probably didn’t know exactly what Derek Zook was bringing from The Netherlands.

“Oh, yes, I am sure that I will be of much help to my father,” Biff said aloud.

“Ah, good,” the man replied.

“You know, sir,” Biff said, “we have been together for ten minutes, and although you know my name, I don’t know yours.”

“A million pardons, my young friend. I am Herman Dietz. And my friend driving is Sidney Cade. He is more often called Specks, however. Perhaps you can see why?”

Biff already had noticed that the driver’s face was covered with red blotches. Some of them were small freckles. Others were unpleasant red spots the size of a nickel.

For several moments they rode in silence. Biff was fascinated by the sights around him. They were riding parallel to a broad waterway. On either side, large oceangoing ships were moored to gaily colored quays. Cruise ships, Biff thought to himself. Shops lined the sides of the quaint street along which they were traveling. Tourists crowded these shops, which displayed souvenirs, perfumes, colorful sea shells, shoes, neckties, and women’s handbags.

Dietz noticed Biff’s interest.

“Curaçao, you know, is a free port,” he told him. “There are no duties charged on the thousands of items for sale. That means that perfumes, for example, which would cost fifty, a hundred dollars an ounce elsewhere, cost only a small fraction of that amount in Curaçao.”

Biff knew this fact. He meant to buy presents for his family while in Curaçao. He didn’t comment, though. Dietz wanted to be friends. Biff felt it advisable to go along with him until he showed his hand more plainly.

Another block and the limousine turned into a curving driveway and stopped in front of a white, four-story building.

“Here we are,” Dietz said, opening the door.

As Biff got out, he noticed a small, gold-lettered sign reading: “Hotel Del Mar.” Just before mounting the steps to the hotel lobby, Biff cast a swift glance back in the direction from which they had come. He saw a small sports car pull over to the curb. He wasn’t certain, but the two figures he saw in the car could be his uncle and Derek.

“My father is here?” Biff asked, as the trio crossed the lobby to the elevators.

“He is to meet us in a room upstairs,” Dietz replied as they entered an elevator.

Dietz’s quick reply caused more doubts to grow in Biff’s mind. It seemed to him that any father, unless so ill or injured as to be confined to bed, would certainly want to meet a son who had made the long flight all the way from Holland.

Stopping off on the fourth floor, Dietz led the way down a long corridor to a room at the end. He took out a key and inserted it in the lock. He didn’t knock, Biff noticed. “Pretty rude,” he commented mentally, as Dietz pushed the door open.

“Enter, Derek,” Dietz said.

Biff preceded the two men into the room. One quick glance showed him it was empty. He heard the door close behind him and the key turn.

Turning around swiftly, Biff challenged Dietz, saying, “My father—he’s not here. And he has never been here. You know that. Why was I brought here?”

Dietz’s reply was surprising.

“You are very clever, for one so young,” Dietz said smoothly. “No, your father is not here.”

“Then where is he? I demand that you take me to him at once.”

“You must be patient. Allow me to explain.”

“It’s about time you did!”

Specks was standing with his back to the door, as if expecting Biff to try to force his way out of the room.

“It would have been highly dangerous for us to have taken you directly to your father,” Dietz continued his explanation.

“Go on,” Biff demanded.

“Has your father written you about a man who was once in his employ?” Dietz asked.

“He may have, and he may not. That is my business and my father’s,” Biff answered in an angry voice.

“Ah ... and would that man’s name be Charles Keene?” Dietz went on smoothly.

Now here was a twist, Biff thought. This is an angle to explore more thoroughly.

“I may have heard that name,” Biff said. “To be truthful, I have.”

“Then you must know that this Charles Keene represents a great danger to your father and what he has worked for so long.”

This situation was growing more and more weird. Dietz was talking about Biff’s favorite uncle, but not knowing it, of course. Dietz was completely convinced that Biff was Derek and thought he was telling Derek Zook about a complete stranger. Biff already was beginning to get an idea of what Dietz was leading up to. The double-cross was becoming clearer. What Dietz didn’t know was that he was double-crossing himself.

“Keene was discharged by your father. For good reason. But this made Keene furious. He swore revenge on your father.” Dietz paused.

Biff could just see his Uncle Charlie’s expression when he passed Dietz’s story on to him.

“We knew that Keene would be at the airport to meet you—”

“How could you have known?” Biff asked. The only way Dietz could have gotten this information was directly from Uncle Charlie. Derek’s arrival evidently had not been foreseen, or Derek would have expected to be met. But his, Biff’s, arrival, had been planned by his uncle. Why would Uncle Charlie have passed this word on to Dietz? That question was a real puzzler. Biff felt he might get more of the answer by letting Dietz go on with his lying explanation.

“We have kept a close watch on Keene’s actions.”

That’s for sure, Biff thought.

“We knew he planned to meet you at the airport. It was his intention to prevent a meeting between you and your father until he could extract certain valuable information from your father. Only then would he permit you to join him.”

“And just where do you come in on this?” Biff asked.

“Ah—we are your father’s friends. We have worked closely with him. That is why he asked us to meet you.”

Dietz was digging a bigger hole for himself to fall into. Since he thought Biff was Derek, Dietz had no idea, of course, of how he was giving himself away.

“We had arranged to stop at this hotel just in case Keene tried to follow us. I was sure that he would try. He wants to know where your father is. But I am equally certain that we have eluded him.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, Mr. Dietz,” Biff said to himself. Aloud, he said, “And how can you be sure?”

“I go now to make certain. I will look around most carefully. If I do not see Keene, then it will be safe for us to take you to your father. Specks, here, will stay with you to protect you.”

Biff wasn’t fooled. He knew that Specks was being left behind to keep him from escaping. From the wily smile on Dietz’s face, Biff knew that whatever the plan was, Dietz thought it was moving ahead smoothly. Biff smothered a crazy desire to laugh. Dietz’s plan would be working out successfully if the real Derek were here.

One thing was very clear to Biff as Specks locked the door behind Dietz. These men did not know where Derek’s father was. They were stalling. The whole elaborate story Dietz had woven showed that. His plan must have been to get Uncle Charlie to lead him to Derek’s father. Dietz had figured he could do this if he could get to Derek first. When Charles Keene failed to meet Derek, he would have to go to Zook and explain. Dietz probably had planted a man at the airport to spot and follow Keene.

“And this all started,” Biff said to himself, stretching out in a comfortable chair, “when I wanted to play a practical joke on my uncle by having him think Derek was I.”

Then it dawned on Biff. He couldn’t have played it the way Uncle Charlie had wanted any better if Uncle Charlie himself had planned the switch in identities. It looked to Biff now as if Uncle Charlie didn’t know where Derek’s father was, either.

Parts of the whole puzzling experience had fallen into place. But there were more pieces still to be fitted together.

Uncle Charlie would know the answers. But where was he? Nearly half an hour had passed since Dietz had left the room. Specks, sprawled in a chair, still watched Biff closely.

Idly, Biff rose and strolled across the room and sauntered out on the balcony. He could feel Specks’ eyes following him, but the man made no move.

On the balcony, Biff understood Specks’ inactivity. There was little chance of getting out of the room this way. The drop to the water below was at least seventy-five feet—straight down.

CHAPTER V
Appear and Disappear

“Thinking of taking a swim?” Specks called out. “Some dive you’d have to make first, eh?”

Biff turned around. He could see the fat, satisfied grin on Specks’ face. Biff recrossed the room and stood over the comfortably sprawling Specks. He wasn’t too big a man. “Bet I could take him,” Biff thought.

Biff’s determined expression seemed to alarm Specks. He sat upright in his chair, but at the same time cringed against the back of it. Some of Specks’ boldness had left the room with boss Dietz.

Only one thing held Biff back and kept him from mixing with Specks. What would he accomplish by overpowering his guard? Where would he go? He had to wait until Uncle Charlie appeared. And supposing he was successful in taking Specks? Dietz might come back before Uncle Charlie showed up.

As these thoughts raced through Biff’s mind, a knock came on the door. It was barely audible. Biff looked at Specks and started for the door. Specks leaped out of his chair and jumped for Biff. He tried to push Biff aside, and they tangled.

“Think you can handle him?” a voice behind them said

Their struggle was brief, halted by a voice from behind them.

“Think you can handle him?”

Biff and Specks swung around. On the balcony, a nonchalant smile on his handsome face, stood Uncle Charlie.

Specks, his head pivoting from Biff to Charlie, a frightened look in his eyes, reached for the doorknob. He wanted out, and fast.

“Grab him!” Uncle Charlie ordered and came charging across the room.

Not once so far had Uncle Charlie called Biff by name. Biff took his lead from this. Uncle Charlie still didn’t want Specks to know that Biff wasn’t Derek.

Biff wrapped his arms around Specks, restraining him. Uncle Charlie, at their side, grabbed Specks by the shoulders and wrenched him away from Biff’s grasp.

“Now, how do you want to play this?” Charles Keene asked. His voice was firm, grim, even though his eyes held a sparkle of amusement.

Specks didn’t reply. He tried to pull away from Uncle Charlie’s grasp. He didn’t have a chance.

“There are several ways of handling you,” Biff’s uncle went on. “You see this?” He removed one hand and doubled it into a ham-sized fist. “It’s pretty large for a sleeping tablet. But well placed, like right here”—he flicked Specks’ jaw with the fist—“and I’m sure you will take a long, long nap.”

Specks cowered.

“Or, we could tie you up. But if you’ll be a good little Specks, and not try anything, we’ll leave you alone. Now get over to that chair and sit down.” Charlie’s voice was angry now, and he shoved Specks violently toward the chair.

Specks toppled over the chair’s arm, shrank back in it, and tried to make himself even smaller than he was.

Biff and his uncle moved over to a corner of the room most distant from Specks and talked to one another in low tones.

“Good to see you, Biff. Sorry I had to welcome you this way. But things are beginning to move. I didn’t expect to plunge you into this up to your neck so fast, but I think things are working out better than I had hoped.”

In a low voice, Biff replied, “Uncle Charlie, just before you came in from the balcony, there was a knock on the door. There was another man here, too, not so long ago. A man named Dietz. That knock could have been him.”

“I don’t think so, Biff. I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Then who could it have been?” Biff asked.

“Why don’t you go to the room next door and find out,” Uncle Charlie suggested, grinning broadly. “Go ahead. Specks won’t give me any trouble.”

Biff shrugged his shoulders, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. He shook his head. That was Uncle Charlie for you. Daring, reckless, always making a mysterious game out of any situation. Keeping up the suspense as long as possible.

Although he didn’t always approve of his uncle’s methods, Biff had to admit that with Uncle Charlie, there was never a dull moment.

Moments later, Biff returned.

“Well?” The big grin was still on Uncle Charlie’s face. It disappeared instantly on Biff’s report.

“There is no one in the room next door,” Biff said in a quiet, steady voice.

“Stay here!” Charles Keene leaped for the door. Biff, standing in the doorway, saw him dash into the adjoining room. He was back out in a flash. No longer did he wear a grin. His expression was as serious as Biff had ever seen it.

Charles Keene walked back to Biff, his brows knitted in worry and anger.

“I guess I outsmarted myself,” he said.

“Who was I supposed to find in the next room?” Biff whispered. “Derek?”

“Yes. It was he who knocked just before I came in. It was this way. We couldn’t be sure how many people might have been in this room. We knew you were. We followed you to the hotel—”

“But how did you know what room I’d be in?”

“Oh, that was easy. I’m well known here at the Del Mar. The clerk told me Dietz’s room number. I took the room next to it.”

“You know Dietz, then?” Biff cut in, glancing sidewise to make sure Specks could not overhear them.

“Do I? He’s a bad one. Getting more and more desperate, too. There’s a pot of gold that he’s afraid we’re going to get to first.”

“Pot of gold?”

“Well, not literally; not actually gold. But it’s worth many pots of gold—big ones.”

“Go on, Uncle Charlie,” Biff whispered. “How did you get over to this balcony?”

“There’s a ledge, not a very wide one, that joins the balconies....”

Biff remembered the ledge now. It wasn’t more than ten inches wide. His uncle had taken a dangerous chance in crossing on that narrow ledge from his room to this one.

“The boy, by knocking on the door, was to cause enough distraction to give me time to cross the ledge to this room. I was counting on the element of surprise if I found you being held by more than two men. Remember, surprise can add the strength of another man to any attack.”

“I sure will remember.”

“Well, when I got to your balcony and saw just you and Specks, I knew things were going to be easy.”

“But it didn’t work out quite that way,” Biff said.

“No. I never thought Derek would be in danger.”

“And now he’s disappeared.”

Uncle Charlie nodded his head. He strode back into the room and stood, hands on hips, glowering down at the cowering Specks.

“Where is he?” Charlie demanded. “Where’s Dietz?”

Specks didn’t answer.

“Speak up, or I’ll make you talk.”

“I don’t know,” Specks replied. His high voice cracked as he answered. There was no doubt but that Specks was almost numb with fear.

Charles Keene reached down and grabbed the man by the shoulder. He shook him like an angry lion shaking its kill.

“Please, Mr. Keene,” Specks begged. “I don’t know. That’s the truth.”

Biff tugged at Uncle Charlie’s arm, and he released his hold on the man.

“What is it?” Charlie asked, looking into Biff’s face. Biff indicated with a nod of his head for his uncle to follow him. He then went to the doorway and stood in the hallway. His uncle came along.

“Uncle Charlie, that man’s too frightened of you to talk, even if he does know where Dietz has gone.”

Charles Keene nodded his head. “Guess you’re right, Biff. Got any ideas?”

“Yes. And I’ve got some questions, too.”

“Fire away.”

“What do you think has happened to Derek?”

Uncle Charlie puzzled this question a few moments before replying.

“Two things could have happened. Dietz could have returned just as Derek knocked on the door, or when he was returning to our room.”

“You mean he forced Derek to go with him?”

“Yes. That could have happened.”

“But wouldn’t Derek have called out? Yelled for help?” Biff protested.

“Not necessarily. You see, Biff, Derek doesn’t know me any better than he knows Dietz. You two switching identities at the airport was a good joke. But then the joke turned into a serious matter.”

“Right!”

“I didn’t have enough time to fill Derek in on what was actually going on,” Uncle Charlie continued. “He can’t really be sure whether I’m working for him or against him. The same thing holds for Dietz. Dietz is a fast and smooth talker.”

“I learned that, myself,” Biff said.

“And Derek may have thought that you, by suggesting the switch in identities, might have been in on a plot for me to get my hands on him.”

“I see. It could look that way. Look, Uncle Charlie, if you would tell me what this whole thing is all about, I might be more help.”

Uncle Charlie apparently didn’t hear Biff’s last remark. He was deep in his own thinking.

“Or, this could have happened,” he continued. From his tone of voice, Biff could tell that his uncle was more voicing his thoughts than speaking directly to him.

“Derek might have felt that I was holding him. And after knocking on this door, he could well have gone right on down to the lobby intending to leave the hotel. Dietz might have seen him there.”

“And told him you were a crook and that he would take Derek to his father.”

Uncle Charlie nodded his head in agreement.

“Look, Uncle Charlie, just where is Derek’s father?”

“Brom Zook? I don’t know, Biff.”

“Dietz doesn’t know either, does he?”

“I’m not sure.”

It was just as Biff had reasoned. Neither his uncle nor Dietz knew where Derek’s father, Brom Zook, was, and each thought the other might know.

“You were both hoping that the other would lead you to Brom Zook?”

“That’s about how it shapes up, Biff.”

“How long has Derek’s father been missing?”

“I haven’t seen him for over three months. The only communication I’ve had from him was a letter and a package. They came two weeks after I last saw him.”

There were still many questions Biff wanted to ask his uncle. But right now, Biff figured they could wait. The important thing was to find Derek—and Derek’s father.

“Uncle Charlie, if you think Dietz knows where Brom Zook is, then Specks would know, too, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, I should think so.”

“Then wouldn’t it be best to release Specks? Tell him he’s free? Then we can follow Specks. If Dietz has talked Derek into going with him, or forced him to do so, then Specks will lead us to Dietz, Derek, and maybe even to his father.”

Charles Keene thought about this for a moment.

“You’ve got something there, Biff. You’re using your head better than I am. We’ll do it. You go on down to the lobby. Find a spot where you can’t be seen by anyone leaving the elevator. I’ll turn Specks loose and come down the stairs the moment he gets in the elevator. All right?”

Biff nodded his head.

“Good luck, Biff,” his uncle called out as Biff headed for the elevator.

CHAPTER VI
Crunch

Uncle Charlie had been right about Derek. The Dutch boy had followed Keene’s instructions to the letter—up to a certain point.

Derek had watched Charles Keene climb over the balcony railing and onto the ledge leading to the next room. He had held his breath as he watched the older man press close to the building wall and inch his way along the narrow ledge toward the next balcony.

“Are you all right?” Derek had called softly.

Charles Keene, perspiration breaking out on his face, nodded his head in reply.

Derek had gone back into the room. Moments passed. Then he had slipped quietly out into the hallway and moved to the next door. Then he had knocked. He had waited a few minutes, trying to understand the muffled words coming from the other side of the door.

According to the plan, he was supposed to return to his room and wait for Biff.

“Should I?” Derek asked himself. He was even more confused than Biff had been by the strange turn of events. Charles Keene had seemed a pleasant enough chap. But in the ride from the airport to the hotel, he had been vague in some of the answers he had given. It was hard to distrust Keene, but his explanations had been so sketchy that Derek’s suspicions had been aroused.

He had even wondered about the switch he had agreed to make with Biff. Why had Biff suggested the switch? Was it only a practical joke, or was there some deeper reason for Biff’s suggestion?

What had really started Derek’s doubts had taken place at the airport. When Biff and the two men had passed in the airport, Charles Keene had restrained Derek from calling out to Biff.

Derek made up his mind. He would not return to the room Keene had taken him to. If Keene wasn’t to be trusted, then Derek knew he would have a much greater chance of getting away from him in the hotel lobby than in a small room. Derek went to the elevator. Biff had missed him by only minutes when he went to find him.

In the lobby of the Del Mar, Derek took a seat with a clear view of the elevator bank and the door to the street. His eyes swung from one to the other. Derek was alert, waiting for any development.

Once he dug his hand into the inside pocket of his jacket. Alarm spread over his face when the object he was feeling for wasn’t there. He almost panicked. Momentary relief came to him when he remembered that he was still wearing Biff’s sports jacket. This relief was short-lived.

The package he had reached for was of vital importance to Derek. But Biff had swapped coats with him. Biff now had the package containing the small object of such value.

Had that been the real reason Biff had wanted to switch identifications? So that Biff could get possession of the package? It was hard for Derek to accept this theory. He had developed an instant liking for Biff. He felt that Biff had felt the same way about him. And how could Biff have known that he, Derek, was going to be in the airport in Miami? Could Biff possibly have known and arranged to be on the same plane?

It was too much of a puzzle for the Dutch boy.

Derek watched the floor indicator dial over one elevator move, showing an elevator descending. Would this be Biff? Or Charles Keene? The door slid open. An elderly couple emerged.

He turned his glance toward the street door. A man entered alone. He looked somewhat familiar to Derek. Where had he seen him?

The man glanced swiftly about the lobby. His eyes rested for a fraction of a second on Derek, then turned away. The man started for the elevator. Almost there, he stopped abruptly and swung around to look closely at Derek. Disbelief showed in his eyes.

Derek recognized the man now. He had been one of the two who had walked out of the airport terminal building with Biff.

The man crossed quickly to the chair where Derek was sitting.

“Derek! You—you escaped! I mean—tell me, what happened?”

The man seemed confused. He was obviously unable to believe what he saw.

Dietz was confused. More so even than he displayed to Derek. How had Derek managed to get away from Specks? What had happened in the short space of time he had been away? He would have to play this very cagey now. Earlier, when he had been in the same room with this boy he could tell that the youth had grown suspicious of him.

Dietz took a stab in the dark.

“Did Keene come?” he asked. “And you got away?”

That was true enough. Derek had gotten away from Keene. But how did this man know that he had been with Keene? He couldn’t know—not yet—that it had actually been Biff Brewster, not Derek Zook, who had left the airport with him. Derek’s mind spun dizzily for a moment. “Catch hold of yourself,” he said sternly to his whirling brain.

Derek began thinking. Both he and Dietz held their silence for a few moments, stalling for time, each trying to think how to learn what the other actually knew.

“Yes, I left Mr. Keene,” Derek finally replied.

“Was there trouble? Specks—did Keene attack him? Was that when you made your escape?”

The picture was becoming clearer. The “Specks” Dietz referred to must have been the other man who had been with Biff and this man at the airport.

Derek had a pretty good idea now of what Dietz must be figuring had happened. Believing Specks was guarding the real Derek, Dietz must think that Keene had broken in on them and overpowered Specks, and that during the melee, he, Derek, had fled. It would be wise, Derek thought, to find out as much as he could.

This man must be the one Keene had referred to as Dietz. Derek decided to find this out.

“Yes, Mr. Dietz. That’s what happened.”

“Thank goodness you made your escape,” Dietz replied. “Keene is a dangerous man. Dangerous to you and your father.”

This was just about the same thing Keene had said to Derek about Dietz, Derek remembered. “Caution,” his brain flashed. “Which of them is lying?”

“My father?” he said aloud. “It is safe for you to take me to him now?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, we must leave at once. Before Keene comes down here.”

Dietz’s answer was quick. A bit too quick, Derek thought. But just what or whom was he to believe?

“We can go to him now. At once.”

“Where is he?” Derek asked this question in Dutch. This was to be the big test as to whether he would trust this man. Derek had asked one question of Keene in Dutch. Keene hadn’t replied. At the time, Derek had thought that perhaps Keene hadn’t been listening to him, he had been so busy telling Derek why he had permitted Biff to leave the airport with the two men.

“Your father is in a small hacienda to the north of Willemstad. A half hour’s drive.”

Dietz had replied in Dutch. Derek decided to take a chance.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Derek didn’t see the look of satisfaction and relief that flashed over Dietz’s dark features. He got up and followed Dietz out of the hotel. Moments later, Biff stepped out of the elevator. He just missed seeing Dietz and Derek leave the hotel.

Derek got into the same sleek, black limousine that had brought Biff to the hotel only an hour before. Dietz got behind the wheel. He wove through the crowded streets of Willemstad. The town and its houses and buildings looked very much like a small waterfront town back in Holland. The houses were the same type. Willemstad, Derek recalled, had been named for a small village back in Holland.

Leaving Willemstad behind them, Dietz sped along a narrow, winding road that climbed the foothills toward the highest point in Curaçao. Suddenly he swerved off the paved road onto an unimproved, heavily rutted dirt road. Ten minutes more and Dietz nosed the car through an arched opening in a pink stone wall. Ahead, Derek could see one large, rambling house, again stone, but painted a bright yellow, and several smaller stone buildings.

Dietz stopped in front of the entrance. Immediately there came out the largest man Derek had ever seen. His complexion was a light coffee-brown. He wore knee-length breeches. His legs and feet were bare. His heavy muscles bulged beneath a thin white shirt, its ends tied around his waist.

Without another glance at Derek, Dietz spoke to the giant.

“Take over, Crunch.”

Crunch was well named. Derek learned this when the man clamped a hand on his arm, grinning down at him evilly.

Derek knew now that he had placed his trust in the wrong man. But it was too late. He was powerless to resist. Crunch had the strength to match his giant size.

CHAPTER VII
Gay Curaçao

Biff scanned the lobby of the hotel carefully as he emerged from the elevator. No sign of Derek, no sign of Dietz. They had left only minutes before Biff reached the lobby.

The stairway Uncle Charlie would be coming down, Biff noticed, led into the lobby just to the right, and slightly behind the elevator bank. Biff decided that behind the stairway would be the best place for him to watch for Specks. There was a large potted plant at the foot of the stairway. Biff got behind it. From here, he couldn’t be seen, yet he had a good view of the elevators and the stairs. Specks in his frightened haste might take the stairway. He might not want to wait for an elevator, scared as he must be after Uncle Charlie had given him a verbal working-over.

The elevator must have been waiting on the fourth floor, for Specks came out of it into the lobby just after Biff had taken up his position. He saw the little man glance nervously around the lobby. Probably, Biff guessed, he was looking for boss Dietz. He needed his support, needed it badly.

Specks then headed for the exit. He moved at a pace so rapid that he bumped into several people who were entering.

“Where’s Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked himself. “If he doesn’t get here right now, we’ll lose Specks.” Biff stepped out from behind the huge plant and glanced up the curving stairs. No Uncle Charlie. Biff did think that he heard someone coming down, coming fast, taking two or more steps at a time. “That must be he,” Biff thought. He decided to go after Specks, hoping his uncle would be right behind.

In the curved driveway outside the hotel, Biff looked right and left. Specks must have pulled out of there at a rapid clip. He wasn’t in sight. Uncle Charlie came out of the hotel, taking the three steps at a leap.

“Where is he? Which way did he go?”

“I don’t know,” Biff replied. “He was gone by the time I got out here.”

“Come on, then.” Uncle Charlie, on the run, headed for the street. Biff was at his heels.

On the sidewalk, they tried to spot Specks.

It seemed to Biff he had never seen so many people crowding the streets, all of them in a gay, holiday mood.

“It’s no use, Biff,” Charles Keene said. “We’d never catch Specks in this crowd, even if we knew which way he went.”

“Guess you’re right,” Biff replied. “But I hate to give up. I want to find Derek. Don’t like the idea of his thinking you and I are against him.”

“I know how you feel, Biff. Tell you what. Let’s just wander around, circulate among the crowds. Who knows, we might bump into him. If we don’t, locating him is going to take time and organization.”

Biff felt there would be little chance of that happening. He knew that his uncle was just trying to cheer him up. So, thought Biff, why not? See some of the town at the same time.

“Okay, Uncle Charlie, lead on.”

The man and boy joined in the thronging crowd of tourists, sight-seers, and bargain hunters.

“Four big cruise ships in, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “That’s why Curaçao is really hopping today.”

They stopped at several shops. Both kept an eye out for Derek, and Biff’s uncle made several inquiries of shopkeepers. No luck. “Let’s acquaint you with this fabulous city first, Biff,” he said. “Then back to the hotel for a powwow on our next move.”

Biff looked over some German cameras in El Globo on Heerenstraat. He was delighted with the store run by Juluis Penha on Breedestraat. This store sold dolls from all over. He bought a Dutch doll for Monica. It was dressed in traditional Dutch clothes—wooden shoes, a gaily colored frock, and a stiff winged hat. He found a Swiss watch at Spritzer and Fuhrmann, and was surprised at how inexpensive it was. He bought it for his brother Ted and smiled as he thought of Ted’s face when he saw it.

As they walked along, Uncle Charlie kept up a running fire of conversation, giving Biff a good picture of life in Curaçao.

“All the houses are different colors, Uncle Charlie. Why is that?” Biff asked.

Each house was distinct from the other, even if its color varied by only a shade. Some were light pink, others darker pink. There were bright green-painted houses, and light green ones. Others were different shades of blue and yellow.

Uncle Charlie chuckled before replying.

“Don’t know how true this story is, Biff, but here’s the natives’ explanation of why the houses here are so gaily colored. Many years ago, all the houses here were whitewashed. It seems the unrelieved glare of all the white houses hurt the governor’s eyes. So, being a powerful man who knew what he wanted, he ordered the houses to be painted the colors of their owners’ choices. Simple as that.”

“If you’re a governor,” Biff replied, laughing.

“And you see that large building over there?” Uncle Charlie pointed to a magnificent structure standing on top of a hill.

“Big enough to be a palace,” Biff commented.

“It’s Franklin D. Roosevelt House, the United States consulate. The Dutch built it up there on Ararat Hill to express their thanks for our protection of these Dutch islands during World War II.”

“That was really nice of them.”

“Good neighbors, the Dutch.”

Biff stopped in front of a store displaying beautiful English china and Swedish crystal. He pretended to be inspecting these beautiful wares. Actually he was listening intently to a rapid-fire conversation between two native clerks.

“I don’t get it,” Biff said, shaking his head.

“What don’t you get?”

“The language they’re speaking. I thought at first it was Spanish. I know I caught some Spanish words. And some English words. And I could pick out some Portuguese, too. But it’s all so mixed up.”

Uncle Charlie laughed. “No wonder you’re puzzled. They’re speaking a language made up of more different languages than any other in the world. It’s called Papiamento. The jargon is a combination of Dutch, English, Spanish, Portuguese, African, and Indian words. Carib Indians. A few French words thrown in, too.”

“Just like Curaçao itself.”

“That’s right, Biff. This island is filled with many races although the Dutch are predominant.”

Uncle Charlie looked at his watch, then glanced up at the sun. “Aren’t you getting hungry? It’s after noon,” he said.

“Now that you remind me,” Biff replied with a grin, “I’m starving.”

“Like to go back to the hotel, or how about some real Dutch-Javanese food? Dutch cooking is good. Heavy, though.”

“Lead me to it.”

Uncle Charlie took his nephew to Koreman’s Old Dutch Tavern on Columbusstraat. They started out with a delicious Dutch pea soup, for which the restaurant is famous, and followed it with a Javanese dish of pork and vegetables with a thick curry sauce.

“Like it, Biff?”

“Delicious. But, as you said—heavy. I’m so full now, I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat again.”

“This stuff really sticks to your ribs. But if I know you, you’ll be starving again in a few hours. Come on, we’ll go back to the hotel. You must have some questions buzzing in your brain.”

CHAPTER VIII
Uncle Charlie Spins a Yarn

“Make yourself comfortable, Biff,” Uncle Charlie invited, when they were back in his room at the Del Mar. “You must be tired. Night flight, exciting morning. Get much sleep on the plane?”

“Few hours. I think that food made me sleepier than anything, though. Boy, am I glad to get this coat off! Too tight for my taste.”

Biff took off Derek’s coat, which he had been wearing, and tossed it toward a chair. As the coat landed, a small white box fell out of the pocket. Uncle Charlie pounced on it like a hungry cat on a mouse.

“What is it, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked.

Charlie had taken the lid off the box and was inspecting the object in it with a triumphant smile on his face.

“What luck! I think this will clinch our case against Dietz and Company. And at the same time, I can see now why Derek might be very suspicious of both of us.”

Uncle Charlie put the lid back on the box and replaced it in Derek’s coat.

“You still haven’t told me what it is,” Biff said.

“Give me time. And when I do, a lot of things will become clear.”

“So, Uncle Charlie is going to be mysterious again,” Biff said to himself. Biff sprawled out on the bed and waited for Uncle Charlie to start talking.

“It all goes back to our days in Burma and China, Biff. You know Explorations Unlimited still has its headquarters in Burma. Sumatra’s not too far from Burma. Lots of Dutch people in Sumatra. It was once a Dutch colony. And Explorations had done quite a bit of work for some of the Dutch businessmen there.

“Just after we had to get out of Burma—you remember, of course—Explorations received an inquiry as to whether its operations extended to the Netherlands Antilles. Jack Hudson—you recall him, don’t you, Biff?—cabled me.”

Biff nodded his head. Jack Hudson also worked for Explorations Unlimited. It had been Jack who had flown into China and rescued Biff and his uncle when Biff had taken part in the Mystery of the Chinese Ring.

“So Jack cabled me,” Uncle Charlie went on. “An inquiry had come from a friend of Derek’s father, Brom Zook. Brom wanted someone to work for and with him. I got the job. I’d picked up a seaplane with my earnings in China and had been kicking around the Caribbean, charter flights and so on.”

“What did he want you to do?” Biff asked.

“Pilot him back and forth from here to Martinique. Run a speedboat he has in Martinique.”

“I know from what Dietz told me that Derek’s father is looking for something on the bottom of the ocean? What is it? Sunken treasure?” Biff asked.

“In a way, yes. And he’s found it, too. It’s a pearl fishery—”

“Pearl fishery!” Biff’s voice showed his excitement.

“Yes. A fabulous one. If the samples Brom has found so far are an indication, there are millions of dollars of pearls waiting to be taken, from a spot of ocean floor just off the coast of Martinique.”

Biff was sitting up now, leaning forward. This was fascinating to him. Pearls, taken from the bottom of the ocean!

“It was the very end of November, I guess, when I last saw Brom,” Charles Keene said. “I’d taken some new skin-diving equipment over to him. He indicated to me then that he thought he was nearing his goal. He said I’d hear from him within a week. I was to come back to Curaçao and await word.”

“Why Curaçao, Uncle Charlie, when he was working in a French possession?”

“Because he’s a Dutch citizen. Everything he does over there has to clear through the Dutch authorities and the French consulate here.”

“I see,” Biff nodded his head.

“Well, nearly two weeks went by. I was worried. I flew back to Martinique. I couldn’t locate Brom. He had gone to sea in his speedboat, loaded with supplies. I hung around La Trinité—that’s the town we headquartered in—for a couple of days, then came back here. Nothing else for me to do.”

Uncle Charlie got out of his chair and walked over to the balcony.

“Then I got a letter and a package from Brom,” Uncle Charlie continued. “And that’s the last I’ve heard from him. Oh, I’ve been back to Martinique several times, but he’s vanished.”

“Do you think Dietz had anything to do with it?”

“I’m sure of it, Biff. He either kidnapped Brom Zook, and Brom got away, or he drove Brom into hiding. It’s just got to be one or the other.”

“Dietz knew about this pearl fishery, too?” Biff wanted to know.

“Lots of people know about it, Biff. Stories of a fabulous pearl fishery have been circulating in these parts for years and years. The stories come from the Carib Indians. And every once in a while, a Carib comes to the market with a priceless pearl.”

“But no one has ever located the fishery, is that it?”

“That’s right, Biff. Many have tried, Dietz among them.”

“Where does Derek fit into the picture?” Biff asked.

“I’m coming to that. Derek is motherless. He has spent most of his life divided between living here in Curaçao with his father and living with his grandparents in Holland. When Brom Zook started on his hunt for the pearl fishery, he sent Derek to The Netherlands for his schooling. He knew that he wouldn’t be in Curaçao much of the time, and he didn’t like to leave Derek alone.”

“Why did Derek come back? Particularly since his father is missing?” The picture was still somewhat cloudy to Biff.

“I sent for him,” Uncle Charlie said.

“And you sent for me, too. Why both of us?”

“Because you look so much alike. You could easily pass for twins.”

“I know,” Biff said. “In Miami and on the plane, we were taken for twins.”

“I needed you here in the event Derek didn’t show up in time.”

“In time for what, Uncle Charlie?”

“To establish his right to the pearl fishery his father has found.”

Biff frowned. “I’m afraid I still don’t get it.”

“It’s like this, Biff. The letter I received from Brom Zook, over two weeks after I last saw him, contained a claim to a certain water area, to be filed with the French consulate here in Willemstad, establishing Brom Zook as the discoverer of the fishery. I was to file it for him. Along with the letter and the claim, I received a small package. In it was one of the most perfect black pearls I have ever seen.”

Biff’s eyes turned in the direction of Derek’s coat. He was beginning to get an idea of what Uncle Charlie had found in the box that had tumbled from the jacket.

“This pearl was to be given the French consul along with the claim. In the event Brom Zook didn’t appear within the time limit, the person appearing for him could establish his right by presenting a black pearl that was the perfect match for the one I left with the consulate.”

“And that person would be Derek?” Biff asked.

“Right you are, Biff.”

“How did Derek get hold of the pearl?”

“Apparently Brom Zook knew he was in danger, from Dietz, I’m sure. Dietz would try to stop him from appearing to establish his claim—the same way claim jumpers used to operate in the early mining days of the old West in the United States,” Uncle Charlie explained.

“So he sent Derek the other pearl?”

“That’s right. He told me he had done so in his letter. His instructions were that if he didn’t get in touch with me in plenty of time before the ninety-day time limit was to expire, then I was to cable Derek to come at once to Curaçao.”

“Ninety-day time limit? I don’t understand,” Biff said, his voice showing he was still puzzled.

“When a claim is filed, such as the one I filed for Brom Zook, there’s a waiting period of ninety days before the claim is granted. The law was designed to prevent claim jumping. In those ninety days, if anyone else can dispute the claim, then a hearing is held to decide who discovered the find first.”

“So that if Brom Zook had jumped someone else’s claim, the real discoverer could protest and prove he made the discovery first,” Biff said.

“You’re right, Biff. But in this case, Brom made the discovery. Dietz knows it. Dietz knows that he wouldn’t stand a chance of claiming to have made the discovery first.”

“Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t know exactly where it is.”

“Do you, Uncle Charlie?”

“I have a pretty good idea, because I know more precisely where Brom Zook was working than Dietz does. You see, Biff, a claim to a water area covers a lot of ocean. It isn’t like a land claim for mining. A mining claim covers a specific spot. A water claim can cover an area of hundreds of acres. I know the island group that Brom was searching in, but only Brom knows the exact spot where the pearl oysters are located.”

“Then the pearl fishery itself,” Biff said, “could be a very small area compared to the total area covered by the claim?”

“Right you are, Biff.”

“Then Dietz hasn’t got a chance, has he?”

“Oh, yes. He thinks he has a good one.”

“I don’t see how.”

Charlie Keene grinned. “If neither Brom Zook nor Derek appears at the French consulate to demand the claim within the ninety days, anyone can file for the rights. Dietz is just waiting to file in the same general area where the Zook claim is located.”

Biff knew now what had happened.

“And Brom Zook is missing.”

“That’s it, Biff. If neither Brom Zook nor Derek appears, then Dietz moves in, files his claim, and then it would be most difficult for Brom Zook to reestablish his rights.”

Biff nodded his head thoughtfully.

“Uncle Charlie, when does that ninety-day time limit expire?”

“Tomorrow afternoon, Biff. At four o’clock.”

“What!” Biff exclaimed. “Then we’ve got to act fast. We’ve got to find Derek!”

“Don’t worry, Biff, we’re still ahead of the game.”

“But Brom Zook will be robbed!”

“I don’t think so,” Uncle Charlie said, smiling as he shook his head.

“What’s to prevent it?” Biff demanded.

“You, Biff. Couldn’t you play the role of Derek Zook once more?”

CHAPTER IX
Outmatched

Biff was taken aback by his uncle’s last statement.

“You mean if we don’t find Derek, you want me to substitute for him?”

“That sums it up, Biff.”

Biff shook his head. He knew he looked like Derek. But Uncle Charlie was really asking a lot.

“Gosh, Uncle Charlie. It’s one thing for me to substitute for Derek when it’s only a joke. Like at the airport. But to do this—this is for big stakes.”

“I know, Biff. But, considering the fact that you will actually be doing this so the just rights of a man will be established, I don’t think you would be doing anything morally wrong.”

“No, I guess not. We would be stopping Dietz from stealing what belongs to someone else.”

“That’s right, Biff.”

“Still—suppose I have to sign something? That would be forgery. I couldn’t do that, Uncle Charlie.”

“I know you couldn’t, Biff. And I wouldn’t ask you to. But I’ve looked into this affair as closely as I can. I don’t think you’ll be required to sign anything. The signing for the actual working permit to the claim will take place in Martinique.”

“I sure hope you’re right.”

“I’m rather certain that I am, Biff. Otherwise there wouldn’t have been much point in my having you come down here in such a hurry.”

“And my being here gives you more time to find Brom Zook.”

“Or Derek, now that he is here.”

“I wonder why he didn’t get here sooner,” Biff pondered.

“You can bet that really had me worried. I waited until just over three weeks ago before I cabled for Derek to come here. That would be plenty of time, now that the Atlantic can be crossed in hours instead of days.”

“Didn’t you get a reply to your cable?”

“No. That didn’t worry me too much. I just figured that Derek would know how serious things had become. His father must have given him a clear picture of the situation when he wrote him.”

“Why didn’t Derek come as soon as you cabled?”

“I got a cable about ten days after I sent for Derek. It was from his grandfather. The cable informed me that Derek was in the Swiss Alps for winter skiing. The grandfather had tried and tried to locate him. It seems Derek was off on a long cross-country ski race. You know, where the winner is the one who covers the most miles in a given number of days.”

“Be hard to locate someone on one of those jaunts, all right,” Biff agreed.

“So, being desperate, and not knowing if Derek would get here before the time limit expired, I cabled for you. And was I ever glad to see you come through the door of the terminal!”

“But you actually had the real Derek.”

Uncle Charlie laughed. “That’s right. But from the way things have gone, it’s a good thing I do have two Dereks.”

* * * * * * * *

The hands on the clock in the hearing room of the French consulate showed fifteen minutes of four. Seated in the first of the row of benches which lined the room were Herman Dietz and Specks Cade. Dietz wore a satisfied smile on his face. Things were going fine. Just fine. Fifteen more minutes, and Brom Zook’s claim would be worthless, voided by the expiration of the ninety-day time limit.

Specks’s feelings were just the opposite of Dietz’s. He was nervous. He kept shifting back and forth on the bench, looking at the entrance, watching the clock.

Ten minutes of four.

The claims referee finished some business with the only other person left in the room. He looked down from his bench at Dietz.

“You have business with the Claims Division?”

“Yes, sir. I have a claim to file.”

“Then let’s have it. It grows late,” the referee said impatiently.

“I will when it becomes four o’clock,” Dietz said. “It would not be proper for me to file my claim when there is still time for my friend Brom Zook to appear to ask for his.”

The referee looked down at the paper in front of him. He picked it up.

“Oh, yes. Brom Zook. I have it here.” He glanced at the clock.

Five minutes to four.

A dead silence came over the hearing room. Three men kept their eyes on the clock. Even Dietz fidgeted somewhat as the minute hand came nearer and nearer to the hour hand. Only three minutes and he would win.

The sound of feet striding briskly and firmly came from the rear of the room. Dietz swung around. His face went white. His heart pounded. It couldn’t be. It was impossible! Derek Zook was a prisoner guarded by Crunch. Crunch was a simple-minded soul, but a powerful man. Derek Zook couldn’t have escaped!

Biff Brewster came striding down the aisle.

The referee looked up. “And what is the matter concerning you that brings you before this Claims Division?” he asked.

“The matter of the claim to a pearl fishery, made by Brom Zook of Curaçao, sir,” Biff said.

The referee picked up some papers.

“You can establish your right to the claim?”

Biff nodded his head.

Charles Keene came down the aisle and stood by his nephew.

“I see by a letter which accompanies this claim that you must meet a certain requirement in order to establish your right beyond any doubt.”

Biff cast a quick glance at his uncle. Charles Keene said nothing. The clerk went on:

“Brom Zook has accompanied his filing of a claim asking to be granted the rights to fish for pearls in certain waters off the Island of Martinique, with an object which must be matched by any claimant other than himself. Since I know you are not Brom Zook, you must present this object to establish yourself as the rightful claimant to the grant. You have it, young man?”

Momentarily Biff panicked. Where had he put the pearl? Then he felt his uncle nudge him. “Your inside coat pocket, Biff,” Charles Keene whispered.

Biff’s hand shot into his coat pocket.

“The object referred to,” the referee went on, “is a pearl. A black pearl that must match perfectly the one I hold here.”

At these words, Dietz raised an eyebrow and smirked. He was positive no such pearl existed. If it did, Derek didn’t have it. He had searched Derek carefully. No pearl had been found.

Biff’s hand touched the small box. He pulled it out and stepped forward to the referee’s bench.

“Here, sir.” Biff said, holding the beautiful pearl in the palm of his hand.

The referee took it. Biff couldn’t resist turning around to see Dietz’s reaction. Dietz was grasping Specks’s arm. He seemed about to faint. He swallowed several times, shaking his head as if trying to remove from his vision something he couldn’t believe he was seeing.

The referee was examining the two pearls closely.

“Everything seems to be in order. There can be no doubt that these are matching pearls. Beautiful ones, too. My congratulations to you, young man, and to your father. He has truly made a discovery of great beauty and value.”

The referee placed the papers in a thick manila envelope and handed them over to Biff. “And now, seeing that no one else is here to present a claim, I declare the Claims Division closed for the day,” he said.

Biff joined his uncle, and the two strode happily toward the exit. At the door, they turned and looked back. Dietz was slumped back against the bench. Specks hovered over him like a nervous mother hen.

CHAPTER X
Plan of Action

Two happier people couldn’t be found among the gay crowds of tourists swarming the streets of Willemstad than Biff Brewster and Charlie Keene. They were standing at the bottom of the steps leading from the French consulate.

“We pulled it off, Biff. We really outfoxed Dietz,” Charlie said exultantly.

“We sure did. But I was kind of shaky in there for a few moments. I mean when the referee asked about the matching pearl.”

Uncle Charlie laughed. “You felt like the best man at the wedding who forgot where he had put the ring, eh?”

Biff and his uncle had spent all their time before appearing at the Claims Division in looking for Derek. They had gone to the Zook home, long closed since Brom Zook had been in Martinique and Derek in Holland. They thought the boy might have gone there to hide.

They had also inquired at a small boarding house where Brom Zook had stayed on his infrequent trips to Curaçao. No sign or word of Derek anywhere. They had come to the conclusion that Dietz must be holding the Dutch boy.

“Yep, Biff, we’ve established Brom Zook’s rights to the claim, and we’ve got the matching pearls. Pretty good day’s work, I’d say. Couldn’t have done it without you, though. My compliments to you, Biff-Derek-Zook-Brewster.”

Biff laughed. “I’d like to get back to being just Biff Brewster again. Impersonating Derek Zook gets pretty rough at times.”

Uncle Charlie wasn’t listening. Biff had given him the papers establishing the claim and the two pearls. Uncle Charlie was examining the pearls.

“Real beauties, aren’t they? And valuable, too.”

“What do you think they’re worth, Uncle Charlie?”

“Hmmm ... several thousand dollars at least. They’d make a perfect pair of earrings for some exotic movie star or Italian countess or a member of the British nobility. Not worth a big fortune, but a considerable one. A pearl collector would probably want them at any price named.”

“And there’s plenty more where they came from,” Biff suggested.

“You’re right, there are.”

Biff was quiet. His thoughts were now back on Derek. True, he and his uncle had preserved Derek and his father’s pearl fishery claim, but unless they could find Derek and Brom Zook, what they had done so far was valueless.

“Uncle Charlie, we’ve just got to find Derek now.”

Charles Keene frowned. “I know it, Biff.”

“We can’t let Dietz find out that it wasn’t Derek who appeared before the claims referee. If he does, he could upset our applecart but good.”

“Yes. And it still has to be the real Derek who signs for the working permit in Martinique. Your impersonation can’t go to the extreme of signing Derek’s name.”

Biff glanced down the street. His eyes came to rest on the sleek, black limousine which had brought Dietz to the Claims Division. It was the same car in which Biff had ridden from the airport to the hotel. Looking at it gave Biff an idea.

“Look, Uncle Charlie. If Dietz did get Derek, he must still be holding him. Right?”

His uncle nodded his head in agreement.

“Although he doesn’t know it, of course, since he saw me in the Claims office, and thought I was Derek—”

“Go on, Biff, I think I’m reading you louder and your upcoming idea is getting clearer.”

“Thinking, as he must be, that Derek somehow escaped, wouldn’t he let his guard down now? He must figure the game is almost up.”

“Yes, that’s how I’d figure it myself,” Charlie replied. “And how wrong I’d be!”

“Exactly. So, believing Derek must have escaped, wouldn’t Dietz feel it no longer necessary to take any precautions in returning to his hide-out?”

“I get you, Biff. Following him ought to be a cinch now.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s get in your car and wait for Dietz and Specks to come out.”

The two walked over to Charlie Keene’s small, low-slung, two-seater sports car. They climbed in and waited. Keene’s car was parked four cars removed from the black limousine. The cars intervening gave Biff and his uncle a good spot from which to observe, without too much chance of being seen themselves.

Five minutes passed before a dejected Dietz and his pal Specks came out of the building. They got into the limousine, Specks at the wheel, and pulled away. Uncle Charlie started up his car and slipped into the thick traffic behind. There was little chance of their pursuing car being noticed by Dietz in the crowded downtown streets.

As Dietz’s limousine reached the northern outskirts of the city, traffic thinned. Charlie dropped back half a block, still keeping the black car within easy vision.

Once the city was left behind, Specks speeded up. The limousine roared along the road. Charlie let it pull away although he didn’t have to. His sports car was much the faster of the two.

“Aren’t you afraid we’ll lose him, Uncle Charlie?” Biff asked, worried.

“Not a chance, Biff. This road goes only one place. The end of the island. No major turnoffs. If we stick too close on his tail, he might spot us. I just want to keep the car in sight.”

They remained a good half mile behind the black car. Each time it rounded a curve and disappeared from sight, Biff’s worries increased. But each time, as his uncle rounded the same curve, Biff was relieved to see the black car ahead. Charlie kept the same distance between the cars.

“Look, Uncle Charlie,” Biff cried out suddenly. “He’s turning off.”

Charlie Keene nodded his head and tramped down heavily on the accelerator. The sports car leaped ahead. It roared down the road, rapidly closing the gap to the spot the black car had turned off. As they neared it, Charlie slowed. They came to a jagged road, angling off to the right.

“That’s where they turned,” Biff said.

Charlie nodded his head, but kept on going.

“Aren’t you going to turn in?” Biff asked anxiously.

“Not right away. We’re too close behind them.”

Charlie continued on down the paved road for a quarter of a mile, then U-turned and came back. He cut to the left into the rough road they had just passed, pulled up, and cut his motor.

Biff and Charlie got out. Charlie went ahead, inspecting the road. It was composed of sand and crushed shells.

“This is it, Biff. I’m positive. See those deep tracks? Hasn’t been time for the sand to have shifted and run back to fill them in. These roads with sand show tracks much as a snow-covered road does.”

Biff was convinced. Not only by his uncle’s skill at picking out fresh tracks, but because he hadn’t seen any other road in that vicinity. It had to be the road the black car had just turned down.

“Let’s figure our next move, Biff,” Charlie said. The two got back into the sports car.

“I think I know where we are. There used to be a big estate somewhere around here. It’s been closed up for some years. There’s one large house, a hacienda, and several smaller outbuildings. An ideal place to hide out, particularly if you wanted to hold someone prisoner. Let’s put our plotting machine to work for a few minutes.”

At first, Biff was all for barging right ahead, crashing right in and demanding of Dietz the whereabouts of Derek.

“Don’t think we’d better do that, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said. “We don’t know how many cohorts Dietz might have. He’s bound to have a servant or two. Particularly since he had to have someone to keep a sharp eye on Derek.”

“I see what you mean, Uncle Charlie. What’s your plan of action?” Biff asked.

“I’ll go up to the hacienda by myself. I can keep Dietz plenty busy with questions and accusations for a while. That will give you time to scout around the outbuildings and search for Derek.”

“But won’t Dietz want to find out how Derek got away?”

“Perhaps. But since Dietz thinks he is gone, what good will it do him to worry about locking the gate now that his prize has fled?”

Biff nodded his head. Then another thought came to him.

“But won’t the guard who let Derek get away be so worried and scared he’ll report to Dietz at once?” Biff asked.

“Whoa, there, my boy. You’re beginning to think like Dietz. Why should the guard be upset? He still has Derek, hasn’t he?”

“I forgot, Uncle Charlie,” Biff said sheepishly.

“Okay, let’s move on.”

They drove for about two miles along the winding sand-shell road until they came to the arched opening in the pink-stone wall.

“This is where we part for a while,” Uncle Charlie said. “I’ll drive on up to the hacienda. You wait until you see me enter. Then make like a beagle and sniff out the other buildings fast.” Charlie looked at his watch. “I’ve got six-fifteen. How ’bout you?”

“The same.”

“Okay, Biff. We’ll rendezvous outside this gate at exactly six forty-five. It will still be light by then. But darkness comes fast. Night falls as fast as a theater curtain in the tropics. One minute it’s daylight. The next it’s dark. Dusk lasts about one minute. All set?”

“Right. And I hope you see double when we rendezvous.”

“See double?” Uncle Charlie was momentarily puzzled.

“Derek and me,” Biff said, grinning.

“Oh. I get you. Guess I’d stopped thinking clearly for a moment this time. Good luck, Biff.”

Charles Keene started the car and drove toward the hacienda.

Biff waited until he saw him enter the building. When the door closed behind his uncle, Biff, keeping close to the wall, started out on his bird-dogging expedition.

Fortunately for Biff, the grounds had been landscaped. Palm trees, low palmetto bushes, and flower gardens, now filled with rank, weedy growth, gave him plenty of cover to scout around.

The first two buildings he inspected were empty. A third, smaller building, well removed from the main house, looked like the next likely place. As Biff approached it, he noticed that the windows of the building were barred.

Biff noticed that the windows of the building were barred

Biff crept silently up to the building. He pressed close to the wall of the stone house and worked his way around to its rear. Cautiously he raised his head until his eyes were at the level of the window. He looked into the room.

Once more he was looking at himself in a mirror. This time Derek’s expression was even more startled than when the two boys had first met at the Miami airport.

CHAPTER XI
Biff Meets Crunch

Biff quickly pressed a forefinger against his lips. If Derek, startled as he was, made an outcry, any chance of freeing him would be gone.

Derek was seated on the edge of a small cot. The only other furniture in the room was a straight chair. Biff could see through a narrow opening into the second of the two rooms which made up the small stone house. The entrance to this house-prison must be in the other room, Biff figured.

Derek arose and came quietly to the window.

“Biff! You found me!” Derek sounded as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“And I’ve got to get you out of here. Fast,” Biff whispered.

“But tell me, Biff, what has happened? I’m all confused. I have to know—”

“No time now,” Biff replied. “If I can’t get you out of here right away, you’ll be in real trouble. Are you alone here, or are you being guarded?”

“There’s a guard right in the other room,” Derek whispered back.

Biff’s face fell. He had expected Derek to be under guard, but he’d hoped the guard wouldn’t be so close by.

“No way of slipping past him, I suppose?” Biff said.

“I would have little or no chance. The guard is a giant.”

“Have you been treated all right?” Biff asked.

“Oh, yes. The guard, while big enough to crush me with his bare hands, is really quite a simple soul. He’s friendly too, as long as I don’t try anything,” Derek went on.

“And he stays here all the time? Never leaves you alone?” Biff pressed his questions hurriedly. There wasn’t much time before he was to rejoin his uncle.

“No, Biff. He goes to the main house for my meals and his.” Derek looked at his watch. “He’ll be going any minute now. At six-thirty.”

“How can you be sure he’ll go at six-thirty?”

Derek grinned. “It would be funny if I weren’t a prisoner. My guard—his name is Crunch—can’t read. Can’t even tell time. He has me set an alarm clock for when it’s time for him to go get our food. When the alarm goes off, we eat.”

“And you set it for six-thirty.” Biff said this half aloud. His thoughts were racing as a plan was shaping up in his mind.

“Listen closely, Derek.”

The Dutch boy grasped the iron bars of the window in his hands and pulled himself nearer to Biff. Their heads were only inches apart.

“Do you remember an arched gateway leading into this place?”

“Yes. I remember it.”

“I’m to meet my Uncle Charlie there at six forty-five. He’s up at the hacienda, stalling Dietz. Here’s my plan. It ought to work, too, if Crunch is as simple-minded as you say he is.” Biff’s voice was a low, rapid whisper.

“Think it will work, Derek?” he finished.

“It should. I just hope you don’t get hurt.”

“Don’t you worry about me. You just make for that gate as fast as you can if you get out. Wait for my uncle. If I’m not there by the time you two meet, both of you go on ahead. Forget about me.”

Derek’s frown showed that he didn’t like the possibility that Biff might get caught. His “But Biff—” was cut short by the sharp ringing of an alarm clock bell.

Biff pulled quickly away from the window. He moved quietly but speedily until he stood concealed just behind the front wall of the small building. He poked his head around the corner, saw the doorway only six feet away, then drew back.

Moments passed. Biff heard the sound of a key grating in a lock. Again he poked his head cautiously around the corner of the building. He saw the door swing outward. Next he saw the guard come out. Biff gasped. Never had he seen a man of such tremendous size. Derek was right. This man was a giant! Big powerful shoulders topped a strong, barrel-shaped torso. His large head, thatched with shaggy hair, was out-size even on so massive a body. Biff shuddered to think what his fate might be if Crunch ever got his hands on him. And that was just what might happen. Biff was going to deliberately try to get Crunch to attack him.

Crunch swung the door closed. He started to put the key back in the lock. Biff acted.

“No use locking the door, Crunch,” he said, hoping the big man would not notice he was not dressed like Derek. “I’m out here.”

Crunch, startled, turned in Biff’s direction. He stared with his mouth agape like a child seeing something for the first time; seeing something that just couldn’t be.

“Yes, Crunch, I got out the back window,” Biff said.

Crunch turned bewilderedly to look through the door, as if expecting to see Biff in the act of escaping. He turned his head back to Biff. Biff took a step back. He cringed, pretending to be frightened. Actually, he didn’t have to pretend too much. The size of the man alone was enough to frighten anyone.

Crunch was still confused. He took a step toward Biff, then looked back at the unlocked door. He made a motion as if he were going to lock it.

Biff withdrew another few feet. He wanted the big man to chase him. It took Crunch a little time to figure out the situation. Then, as he saw Biff move farther away from him, he made up his mind. He lunged toward Biff. Biff turned and ran.

The plan was working out fine. Derek would have plenty of time and opportunity to get out of his jail and head for the gateway.

Everything was fine with one exception. Suppose Crunch overtook Biff? The boy could almost feel the massive arms of the giant closing around him. Crunch’s grasp would be as powerful as that of a boa constrictor.

Running in the mixture of sand and shell was difficult. Biff felt he was making no progress. It was like racing on a treadmill. Running was even harder for the giant. His long strides, his great weight forced his feet deep into the soft under-footing, slowing him more than it did Biff.

Biff had headed directly away from the big house and Derek’s recent prison. He wanted to draw Crunch as far away as possible.

Biff could still hear the big man pounding after him. The distance between them was widening. Biff halted, took refuge behind a thick palmetto bush and waited. He could hear Crunch coming on. As he came nearer, the big man’s breathing was loud. He was gasping for breath. The sand was his real enemy. It held him back, sapped him of his great strength.

Crunch passed within a few feet of where Biff was hiding. He continued at a staggering run. When Biff felt he was a hundred or more feet away, he crept out from beneath his sheltering bush and struck out for the gateway.

Biff glanced at his watch. It was already six forty-five. Had Derek made it? Had Uncle Charlie been able to get away without Dietz’s watching him? If he had, then he and Derek already would have met.

Suddenly it began to grow darker. Biff welcomed the quick nightfall. It gave him more cover. When he reached the gate, he welcomed the darkness even more.

Derek and Uncle Charlie were gone.

CHAPTER XII
Double Chance

The sudden nightfall, the quick spread of darkness, was most fortunate for Biff. He selected a secluded spot not far from the arched gateway and holed in to catch his breath and figure out his next move.

Biff was very well pleased with the way he had tricked the giant Crunch. Derek had escaped. He must have met Uncle Charlie. The problem now was—how was Biff going to rejoin them?

As he sat on the warm sand, wondering if he should start the long walk back to Willemstad, he heard shouts and angry voices coming from the main house.

A knife of light cut into the darkness as the door opened. Out at a run came Dietz, Specks, and Crunch.

“Get the car, Specks,” Dietz’s order rang out. “Crunch and I will search the grounds. Meet us at the gate.”

Biff’s first idea at hearing the words was to move out fast, put as much distance as possible between him and the main house and the searchers.

Then a second idea came to him. It was a daring idea. It was a dangerous one. He decided to wait and see if he could put his plan into effect.

Two sweeping streaks of light told Biff that Specks was on his way to the gate in the car. It pulled up and stopped just outside the gate, not more than ten feet from Biff’s place of concealment.

Biff could hear Dietz and Crunch thrashing about in the underbrush.

“All right, Crunch,” Biff heard Dietz shout. “They’re not here. Come on to the gate.”

Moments later Biff saw Dietz join Specks by the front of the car. They stood in the glare of its headlights.

“That stupid fool!” Dietz said angrily. “I don’t know whether to believe him or not. Do you think he was seeing things?”

“Look, boss, Crunch is stupid. He’s too stupid to dream up a story like that.”

“Maybe you’re right. But why would that Zook kid come back here after he had escaped?”

“You got me, boss. Unless he hid something there and came back for it.”

“What? What would he have left when he got away? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Biff smiled at Dietz’s confusion. “It sure doesn’t make sense—to you, Mr. Dietz,” he said to himself.

“And I don’t get Keene’s coming out here,” Dietz went on. “He certainly doesn’t think I’d tell him where Brom Zook is. He’s not that dumb.”

“Yeah—you wouldn’t tell him even if you knew,” Specks replied.

That was a piece of information valuable to Biff. Now he knew for certain that Dietz didn’t know where Derek’s father was. Nobody seemed to know.

“Mighty tough on Derek,” Biff said to himself.

The giant Crunch came up.

“Get in, you big lug,” Dietz commanded. “In the front, stupid, with Specks.” There was anger in Dietz’s voice. But no fear. Biff wondered why the giant Carib Indian stood such verbal abuse. He could tear Dietz apart.

Dietz climbed in, and Specks put the car in gear. It started off slowly. Biff went into action. Doubled up, running low, he overtook the car, hopped onto the rear bumper, and grasped the trunk handle. This was a dangerous thing to do. Biff realized it. But what better chance did he have of getting away, and getting away fast?

Biff appreciated the humor of the situation, too. Here was Dietz out looking for him, and all the time only the length of the limousine’s trunk lid separated the two.

“My enemy is giving me a lift to town,” Biff chuckled. “Darned nice of him.”

Biff had to hold on tight as the car gained speed. It lurched and careened around the sharp turns of the curving road. By the time Specks reached the paved highway, Biff had had enough. He knew he couldn’t be hurt too much if he were thrown off the car on the sand road. But if he fell off on a paved highway with the car going at high speed, he could be seriously injured.

He also realized that a following car would spot him easily, hanging onto the trunk.

As Specks slowed to turn onto the main highway, Biff dropped off the car and skipped over to the side of the road. The limousine headed for Willemstad.

“Now what?” Biff asked himself. “Do they pick up hitchhikers in Curaçao?” He walked out to the main road. He was just in time to see the taillights of the limousine disappear as the car rounded a curve.

Biff was startled by the sound of another car starting, just a short distance up the road in the opposite direction from Willemstad. The car’s lights came on. It headed toward Biff. Biff stepped back into the darkness. The car came at the dirt road gaining speed. Its tires screeched as the driver cut sharply off the paved road onto the dirt one.

Biff recognized the car.

“Hey! Uncle Charlie!” Biff shouted at the top of his voice as the sports car shot passed him. At first, Biff didn’t think his shout had been heard over the sound of the car’s engine. Then the car braked sharply. Biff ran up to it.

Charlie Keene hopped out.

“You’re okay, Biff? Crunch didn’t get you?”

“See for yourself, Uncle Charlie. I got away all right.”

Derek joined them.

“A million thanks to you, Biff. And a million more pardons for my ever having suspected you or your uncle.”

“Forget it, Derek. I don’t blame you for being suspicious. How could you help it when I even had your pearl?”

“Well, Biff, to be truthful, I did think for a while that maybe the real reason you wanted me to impersonate you at the airport was so you could get my coat.”

“That’s one joke I won’t be trying again for a long, long time.”

“It turned out for the good, though, didn’t it?” Derek replied. “Dietz still doesn’t know there are two of us. Either two Dereks or two Biffs.”

The boys laughed.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Biff asked his uncle.

“I didn’t, Biff. I was afraid Crunch might have caught you. So was Derek. I was pretty sure that Dietz would head back for Willemstad as soon as I left.”

“What made you so sure?”

“I told Dietz that I’d left Derek there. If Dietz can prevent Derek from getting to Martinique, he still has a chance to jump the Zook claim.”

“Because I have to sign the permit for the working permit, Biff,” Derek said.

Biff was thinking fast. Another plan was developing in his mind.

“Look, Uncle Charlie,” he said, “If you and Derek could get to Martinique without Dietz, it would be a good break, wouldn’t it?”

“The best ever, Biff. What’ve you got in mind?”

“Suppose I take Derek’s place again.”

“You can’t, Biff. You can’t sign those papers. That would be forgery,” Charles Keene reminded him.

“Oh, I don’t mean that I’d go to Martinique,” Biff said.

“What are you getting at?” Uncle Charlie demanded.

“Suppose I go back to the hacienda? When Dietz and Company return, Dietz will think he still has Derek under his thumb, and that would give you and Derek plenty of time to get set up in Martinique.”

Uncle Charlie didn’t reply at once. He was considering Biff’s daring plan.

“Don’t like it, Biff. It would work out well for us, sure. But you might get hurt. I’m thinking of Crunch.”

“Oh, come on now, Uncle Charlie. I’ve been in tighter spots than the one I’ve described.” Biff spoke boldly, confidently. His inner feelings didn’t match his spoken optimism. “Derek tells me Crunch is really a gentle person.”

“Except when he’s aroused,” Derek cut in. “He didn’t harm me. Not once. But one time when I tried to follow him when he went for our meals, he picked me up and threw me on the cot as if I were a small puppy.”

“Believe me, Uncle Charlie, I have no intention of antagonizing Crunch,” Biff assured him. “And I’ll think up some reason for being there.”

Uncle Charlie rubbed his jaw. “Well, Biff, I still don’t like the idea at all. But it surely would give us the time we need. We’ve got to get the working permit. And I’ve got to fuel my seaplane.”

“You’re weakening, aren’t you, Uncle Charlie?”

“I guess I am, Biff. I’ll come back for you in a couple of days. Dietz will free you once I convince him you aren’t the real Derek Zook.”

“Good. We’ll do it then. But before I go back to the hacienda and surrender myself, I could use some FOOD! How about you, Derek? Hungry? You missed your nightly feed.”

“I’m with you, Biff.”

“I know an eating place not too far from here,” Uncle Charlie said. “Let’s go. Dietz won’t be back for a couple of hours anyway.”

An hour and a half later, Uncle Charlie and Derek dropped Biff off at the sand-shell road leading to the hacienda.

“Lots of luck, Biff,” Uncle Charlie said, placing an affectionate hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“My best wishes go with you, too, Biff,” Derek said, holding out his hand. “And my thanks for all you have done and are going to do.”

Biff watched the sports car head toward Curaçao. Then he turned and walked down the starlit road. He didn’t feel quite so brave with his uncle and Derek gone. He couldn’t know how Dietz would react when he discovered “Derek” had again walked right back into the trap. Biff did think that he had a good story as his explanation for returning. It was a story he felt sure would prevent Dietz from harming him.

Once again, Biff’s plan was going to backfire.

CHAPTER XIII
Turnabout

Biff walked along the lonely, winding road, alert, ears tuned for any sound, and admitting frankly to himself that his nerves were on edge. It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time he reached the gate. The only light at the house was the single, bare bulb illuminating the front porch.

Was Dietz back? Had they all gone to bed? Biff didn’t think so. He slipped through the gate. Keeping in the shadows as much as possible, he went up to the house. He couldn’t hear a sound from within. He moved around to the rear, peeking through every window he passed. Nothing stirred. The silence was creepy. Biff felt he would welcome even Dietz. Now that he had decided on this course, he wanted to get started. He wanted to see Dietz’s reaction when “Derek” delivered himself into the hands of his enemy.

The sound of a car came to Biff’s ears from a distance. He ran swiftly back to the gateway, and scurried into the hiding place in which he had concealed himself before.

Just in time, too. The black limousine came up the road, passed through the gate, and drew up in front of the porch. Dietz got out. Crunch got out. Biff could see Dietz speak to Crunch. The big Indian bowed his head and walked off in the direction of the small house where Biff had first seen him.

“Good,” Biff said half aloud. “At least, I won’t have to worry about Crunch being present when I go up there.”

He waited a few minutes more. Specks returned from parking the car, joined Dietz, who had waited on the porch, and the two men entered the house. The porch light went off. Lights inside the house came on.

“Well, it’s now or never. This is it, Biff Brewster. Get hold of yourself and start moving.”

Biff crossed the yard again and mounted the steps leading to the porch. His heart was pounding. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat stayed where it was. Biff’s knuckles rapped on the door. He stepped back. He heard footsteps approaching. The door opened. It was Specks.

Specks’ mouth dropped open in amazement. His face went pale. The red blotches on his cheeks became even redder against the whiteness of his skin.

“Who is it, Specks?” Biff heard Dietz call.

Specks didn’t answer. He was speechless.

“Who’s there?” Dietz called again. “What is it? Specks!” he snapped. “What’s happened to you?”

Biff stepped forward.

“May I come in?”

As he stepped inside the house, Specks took a step backward. He must have thought he was seeing a ghost. Just then Dietz came into the hallway. He took one look at Biff, and the glass he was holding in one hand dropped to the floor.

“Zook! Derek Zook!”

Dietz was as astonished as Specks. But being quicker-witted than his partner, Dietz got over his amazement faster.

“It’s Zook. Grab him, Specks!”

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Dietz,” Biff said boldly. “I have come here on my own.”

Still not believing what he saw or heard, Dietz came up to Biff. He placed a hand on Biff’s arm, as though trying to assure himself that the boy was real.

Biff brushed past the two men and walked down the hallway to a door which led into a living room. He walked in, picked out a comfortable chair, and sat down in it as calmly as if he were in his own home in Indianapolis.

Still somewhat dazed, Dietz entered the room and stared at Biff. Specks stood in the doorway, shaking his head.

Dietz recovered his poise.

“What are you doing here? Why have you come back?” he demanded.

“This is going to be fun,” Biff thought. “Didn’t know I was going to knock them for this much of a loop.” Aloud, he said:

“I haven’t been away.”

“You mean—you mean all the time we were in Willemstad looking for you, you were right here!”

“Most of the time,” Biff answered truthfully.

“Go get Crunch,” Dietz ordered Specks. A gleam had come into his eyes. He was getting ready to take over.

“Now you tell me why you have come back here,” Dietz said to Biff, and walked over to the chair where Biff was sitting.

“I want information,” Biff said. “I want to know where my father is.”

“Oh, you do. And you think I’ll tell you just for the asking.” Dietz’s laugh was more of a sneer.

“We may be able to make a bargain,” Biff said.

Dietz leaned forward. A hungry look spread over his face.

“You mean if I tell you where your father is—” he began.

“I might persuade him to cut you in on the pearl fishery. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Dietz didn’t reply. He walked across the room and stood by a long, low table. His hand went to his head. He rubbed his scalp. His long silence worried Biff. It was obvious that some scheme was forming in Dietz’s mind. He came back to Biff.

“I’ll tell you where your father is if you’ll tell me the exact location of the pearl fishery.” Dietz poked his crafty face close to Biff’s.

Biff could hardly suppress a smile. He knew that neither one of them could give the other the information asked for. Biff didn’t know where the pearl fishery was. He also knew that Dietz didn’t know where Brom Zook was. This was going to be a cat-and-mouse game. Biff just hoped it could be played long enough for his uncle and Derek to get things firmed up in Martinique.

“Can you take me to my father?”

“Not until you give me the information I want,” Dietz replied.

“Is he here in Curaçao, or in Martinique?” Biff asked this question to stall for more time. He knew Dietz couldn’t give him an honest answer.

Before Dietz could reply, Specks returned. The giant Crunch was behind him.

“Now, young man, you’ll find out just what a fool you were not to stay away from here once you had made your escape,” Dietz declared.

The tide was running against Biff. There was a look of triumph on Dietz’s evil face.

“I came here with a fair proposition for you,” Biff said.

“Fair? Never heard the word,” Dietz replied, his voice scornful. “You’ve walked and talked yourself right into being my prisoner again. And this time, Crunch will make sure you don’t escape.”

Biff looked at the powerful Crunch. There was a big, silly smile on his face. He clenched and unclenched his hands, as if he could hardly wait to get Biff in his grip.

“You young fool,” Dietz said. “Don’t you know you and Keene can’t get the working permit to that fishery unless you sign for it?”

“But neither can you.”

“Ha! That’s what you think. It so happens, you stupid boy, that I have a friend in the Fisheries Commission on Martinique. You and Keene may have stopped me once. But you won’t again. Crunch, take him away. And this time, if you let him escape—” Dietz drew the edge of his hand across his throat “—that’s what you’ll get.”

Crunch crossed to Biff’s chair. He seized Biff by one arm and lifted him out of the chair as if he weighed no more than a rag doll.

Biff knew it would be foolish to resist. His plan had backfired.

Why, he thought, with a sinking feeling, hadn’t he or Uncle Charlie realized that Dietz, thinking Biff to be Derek, would hold him, and make for Martinique as fast as he could? Biff realized now that, far from delaying Dietz’s trip to Martinique, he had afforded him the chance to go there sooner.

He knew this all too well as Crunch forced him down the hallway toward the door. He heard Dietz say to Specks:

“We leave for Martinique in the morning.”

CHAPTER XIV
A Talk with Crunch

Although Biff’s strategy had backfired, it did give his uncle a slight jump on Dietz.

Just after daybreak, Charlie Keene and Derek were at the waterport where Keene kept his seaplane. He warmed up the plane’s twin engines. He pointed the plane’s nose into the wind, and the aircraft streaked across mirror-flat water. The seal between plane’s hull and the sea was broken, and the plane was airborne.

Charlie Keene put the plane on a course direct for Martinique, a little over five hundred miles away. If all went well, they would land at Fort-de-France in under three hours. That would get them there in time for the opening of the office of the Fisheries Commission.

Dietz wouldn’t be able to leave until the commercial flight at 9 A.M. He wouldn’t get to Martinique until noon.

“I hope Biff’s all right,” Derek said to Biff’s uncle. The plane was high over the sparkling waters of the Caribbean Sea. The island of Curaçao was only a small dot in the sea behind them. Directly below, they saw a slender, cigar-shaped cruise ship heading for the port Charlie Keene and Derek had just left.

“Biff’s been in plenty of tough spots, Derek. I’ve been in some of them with him. I’d never have let him take that chance if I didn’t think he could handle it. Still—I won’t have any peace of mind until we’re all together again.”

“That will be good, Mr. Keene. It seems I only see Biff for a few minutes, then we’re separated again. I like Biff. I want to know him better.”

Uncle Charlie smiled. It pleased him that his nephew and Derek had become friends.

“You will, Derek. And you’re right. Biff’s as fine a fellow as you’ll ever know. You two ought to have a great time, skin diving for pearls. You ever do any skin diving?”

“Some. In the Mediterranean. I went there with my grandparents last summer. Biff’s done a lot of skin diving, I’ll wager.”

“He sure has, Derek. In Hawaii and off the coast of Southern California. His family has a cottage on a lake out there. The whole family goes in for the sport.”

A little after eight-thirty, the island of Martinique came into view.

“Another ten minutes and we’ll be there,” Charlie said. He put the plane into a long, gentle descent. They came in low over Fort-de-France, circled the city, then came back to set down in the harbor.

At about the same time Charles Keene was setting the seaplane down, Crunch was setting Biff’s breakfast before him. While Crunch had been at the big house to pick up the food, Biff had inspected his prison carefully. It didn’t take him long to determine that escape was out of the question. The iron bars on the windows were three-quarters of an inch thick and deeply imbedded in the concrete. Biff tested each bar, just in case there might be a loose one.

“Not a chance,” Biff thought. “I’m here until someone comes for me. Unless—unless I can outfox Crunch again.”

Now, Biff and Crunch ate their breakfasts in silence. When they had finished, Biff tried to draw the giant out. His first questions were met with grunted replies.

“You know, Crunch,” Biff tried again, “I’ve been all over the world, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as big and strong as you are.”

A pleased smile came over the Indian’s face. He still didn’t say anything.

“In China, I knew a man called Muscles. I thought he was strong. But you could handle him easily.”

The pleased smile on Crunch’s simple face grew broader.

“I suppose your boss Dietz has already gone?” Biff shot the question in while Crunch was still enjoying the flattery.

Crunch froze. The pleased expression left his face.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I know he’s gone. I heard the car leave early this morning.”

“You hear car leave, you know boss gone. Why you ask?” Crunch demanded.

“Just something to talk about, Crunch,” Biff said casually. “We’re going to get mighty tired of one another just sitting here in silence.”

The Indian didn’t reply.

“You know, Crunch, I think I could get to like you. You don’t look like a bad man to me.”

“Crunch good man,” the Indian said.

“Then why do you work for Dietz?” Biff asked.

No reply.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. But I know we could be friends. I’m not going to try to get away from you.”

“You do one time. Make fool out of Crunch. Boss Dietz very mad at Crunch.”

“You’re not going to believe this, Crunch, but I never did escape from you. Honestly.”

“Now you make joke with Crunch. You get away. Last night. Before sky get dark.”

“How could I, Crunch?” Biff asked. “Have you looked around the windows? The bars are still all in them, aren’t they?”

“Crunch look good. Bars all there. You get out by magic.”

Biff laughed. “Well, I must admit, I did use a trick.”

“See. Crunch know. You get out by magic.”

“If I got out by magic once, why couldn’t I do it again? Like right now.”

Biff stood up. Crunch leaped to his feet and grabbed Biff by the arm.

“You go, Crunch go with you,” he declared.

“That’s too much of a trick for me,” Biff said, laughing. “Even if you do think I’m magic.”

Crunch released his grasp. Biff sat down, rubbing his arm where the giant had grabbed it.

“Do you like Dietz, Crunch? Do you like working for him?”

Crunch frowned. He looked like a big, bad boy forced to do something he didn’t want to do.

“I’d say you don’t,” Biff went on. “I can’t believe a man like you would work for a bad man like Dietz if you didn’t have to.”

“Have to,” Crunch said. His hand flew to his mouth, as if he were trying to force back the words he had just spoken.

“I thought so, Crunch,” Biff said. He was winning this man over. Biff felt a definite sympathy for Crunch. “Why do you work for him?”

Crunch was silent for a minute. When he finally spoke, there was a surprising bitterness in his voice.

“Crunch have brother. Little brother. He do bad thing one time. Have to leave Curaçao. He go to Martinique. Lots of Carib Indians still in Martinique.”

Crunch stopped speaking. This was the longest statement he had made. It seemed to pain him to talk so much.

“Go on, Crunch,” Biff said gently.

“In Martinique, brother work for boss Dietz. He tell boss Dietz what he do. He hope to come back to Curaçao. Boss Dietz say he help.” Crunch paused again.

“And he didn’t?”

“No. He come to Crunch. Say if Crunch don’t work for him, do everything he say, he tell police. If police catch little brother, him go way to jailhouse for long time.”

“So that’s why you work for Dietz?”

Crunch nodded his head.

“Crunch go back to house now. You stay here. No use magic to get out of jail.”

“I promise, Crunch,” Biff said. “I promise not to use magic.”

Biff felt so sorry for the giant at that moment, he wouldn’t have walked out on him had Crunch left the door wide open.

Crunch didn’t, however. He made sure the door was locked.

In Martinique, Charlie Keene and Derek were coming out of the Fisheries Commissioner’s office. They had the papers. The working permit had been signed, and it was now tucked in Derek’s inside coat pocket.

“I never heard so many questions, Mr. Keene,” Derek said. “That man asked the same ones over and over again.”

“He was stalling, Derek. He didn’t want to give us that permit,” Biff’s uncle said.

“Why?”

“I don’t trust that clerk. I have a feeling he may be dealing with Dietz. Just how, I haven’t figured out yet. But I’ll bet Dietz promised to cut him in if he could hold up giving us the papers.”

“Well, he did give them to us,” Derek remarked.

“After a struggle. Come on, Derek, let’s get back to the plane and hop over to La Trinité.”

“That’s where my father had his headquarters, isn’t it?”

“Yes. That’s where I last saw him, and that was the postmark on the letters and the packaged pearls he sent us.”

Charlie and Derek took a battered taxi driven by a barefoot native back to the airport. The water basin where Charlie’s plane was tied up to a long ramp adjoined the airport.

They got there just about noon. They saw a commercial plane come in for a landing.

“That’s the plane from Curaçao, Derek.”

They watched the plane taxi in. They had to pass right by it on the way to the seaplane. The door of the plane opened as they went by. Passengers began deplaning. Derek looked back at them. He grabbed Biff’s uncle by the arm. Charles Keene swung around in time to see Dietz and Specks come down the unloading stairs.

“Come on, don’t let them see us.” Keene took Derek by the arm and hustled him away.

“This calls for a change in plans,” Biff’s uncle said. “Something must have gone wrong. I’m really worried about Biff now. I’ll fly you over to La Trinité, then get back to Curaçao. You’d better lie low. Dietz will be heading for La Trinité as soon as he learns we’ve beat him to the punch again.”

“When will you come back?” Derek asked.

“As soon as I can. As soon as I can free Biff. Don’t let Dietz get his hands on you while I’m gone.”

“I won’t,” Derek declared. “I’m going to spend the time, until you and Biff return, looking for my father.”

CHAPTER XV
Almost Away

Charles Keene was winging his way back to Curaçao. Derek Zook was in La Trinité across the Island of Martinique from Fort-de-France. Biff Brewster was still a prisoner in the cellhouse outside Willemstad. Herman Dietz and Specks Cade were at the Fisheries Commission Office in Fort-de-France, giving a cowering clerk a very hard time.

A tall, gaunt man, his body wasted away by a long siege of fever, lay on a narrow cot in a monastery high in the Pitons du Carbet.

The time was approaching when all these people would be drawn closer and closer together, the magnet attracting them being a small but rich pearl fishery in the Baie du Trésor.

When Charlie dropped Derek off at La Trinité, he had had one suggestion as to where the Dutch lad could best start his search for his father.

“The post office, Derek,” Charles Keene had said. “That would be your best bet. Your letter and mine both bore the La Trinité postmark. See what you can find out there.”

Derek was now following Charles Keene’s advice.

“A tall man, you say. Very fair with light-brown hair?” the postal clerk asked.

“Yes. My father,” Derek said. “I know he was here about three months ago, perhaps a little longer than that.”

The postal clerk thought for a moment. “There was such a man as you describe. I recall him. His appearance was in such contrast to the rest of us here in Trinité. But I have not seen him for months.”

“I know. I haven’t heard from him either. I am desperately anxious for any hint as to where he might have gone.”

“Zook. That was his name, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, yes,” Derek replied eagerly.

“Again, the name I remember because it is so different from the names of the people who live here. Yes, many of us knew about this man. He was searching the waters of our treasure bay.”

“That was my father, all right.”

“It was rumored that he searched for pearls,” the clerk went on. “The people of this village had great interest in his activities.”

“Would there be any one person who might have known him well?”

“When he was not out searching the ocean floor, he stayed at a small pension not far from here. You could inquire there.”

“Where is the place?”

“It is called by the name of Pension Sans Souci. You will have no trouble in finding it. It is on this very street. When you go out, turn to your right. A walk of two blocks will bring you there.”

“Merci. Thank you very much,” Derek said.

His hopes were high as he walked down the street under a blazing tropical sun. But these high hopes were short lived. At the Sans Souci, the boardinghouse whose English name would be “Without Care,” Derek learned little more.

“I am so sorry, young man, that I cannot give you news of your father,” the manager of the small boardinghouse told Derek. “We were very fond of him.”

“He left no word as to where he was going?”

“No. We didn’t even know he had left us. One morning, quite early, he came to our modest establishment. I thought he seemed quite distraught. He was not his usual cheerful self. He had hardly a word with me. And it was his custom to chat with others here. He went to his room. To rest, I supposed. I went to awaken him for the noon meal. His room was empty.”

“And that is all you can tell me?”

“As much as I regret it, that is all I know. There have been rumors—”

“What? What are they?” Derek wanted any information that might be a clue to his father’s whereabouts.

“It was reported, shortly after your father left us, that such a man of his appearance had been seen in the foothills of the Carbet Mountains. But these tales were discounted. It would be highly unlikely that your father would explore the mountains. His interest was in the ocean and what might be on the bottom of the sea. I am sorry, young man.”

Derek left the Sans Souci very disheartened. If the rumors were true, why would his father have gone into the interior of the island? And if he had gone there, why had he stayed so long?

“I’m going to find out,” Derek said to himself determinedly. “Every chance I get, I’ll go into those foothills and peaks. I’ll find him.”

* * * * * * * *

In Fort-de-France, Herman Dietz could hardly contain his anger. Specks had never seen the boss so furious.

“But it could not have been,” Dietz said angrily. He and Specks were in the Fisheries Commission Office. The clerk they were talking to cringed at Dietz’s words.

“You’re a fool!” Dietz raged. “I tell you Derek Zook couldn’t have signed for those papers. Derek Zook is in Curaçao. Right this minute.”

The clerk could only shake his head.

“You remember what I promised you?” Dietz continued. “I told you you would share in the proceeds of the pearl fishery. There was little you had to do. Only hold up those rights until I could act.”

“I tried, Mr. Dietz. I delayed as long as I could. Keene and the boy were here over two hours. I expected you here to lodge a protest. But when you failed to appear, I had to issue the permit.”

“Well, I’m going to lodge a protest now. With the Commissioner himself. I’ll tell him how badly you botched your job! How you permitted an impostor to fool you.”

Dietz stormed out of the office, followed by Specks, and made for the office of the Commissioner.

* * * * * * * *

“Another day is coming to an end, Crunch,” Biff said to the giant Carib. “And I’m getting hungry. How about my moving that alarm clock up half an hour?”

“Crunch hungry, too. Here.” Crunch handed Biff the alarm clock. Biff moved the alarm, setting it back from six-thirty to six.

“There, we’ll have dinner half an hour earlier.”

During the long day, Biff had made great progress in gaining Crunch’s confidence and friendship. He had drawn the simple-minded giant out about his brother. The crime the brother had committed was a petty crime, a small theft. Biff felt almost certain that the police had long since wiped the charge from the books. Even if they hadn’t, the theft had taken place so long ago that Biff thought the statute of limitations would have erased the charge.

Dietz, of course, had blown up the seriousness of the theft into a major crime. He had put a real fear into Crunch and his brother.

The brother had paid a high price for his deed. Forced to hide out on Martinique, he had been separated from his wife and children for years.

“Little brother very much want to come back to Curaçao. Want to see family.”

“Too bad, Crunch,” Biff sympathized. “I can imagine how he feels. Does he write? How do you hear from him.”

“No write letters. Can’t write. Friends tell about him. Friends who come to Curaçao from island.”

“From Martinique?”

“That’s right. From Martinique Island many, many boat days away.”

“You know, Crunch, I wouldn’t be surprised if I could help your brother come back to Curaçao. He might have to go to jail. But only for a short time. I don’t know about that. If he did commit that crime, he’d have to pay for it. But wouldn’t it be better if he faced the charge? His sentence would be light. At the end, he would be free.”

Crunch leaned forward to Biff. Big and powerful as the man was, he had the feelings of a small child. Biff could see tears in his eyes.

“You do that, Crunch your friend!”

“I can’t promise, Crunch. But I do know that Dietz has been using you. Misusing is a better word.”

Biff wasn’t sure Crunch understood. He couldn’t be sure. But he felt that he was getting to the giant Indian. At first, it had been Biff’s plan to gain Crunch’s confidence, outwit him, and escape. He still wanted to escape, but by now, he felt a great sympathy for the simple, friendly man. He really wanted to help him.

The alarm bell went off. Crunch stood up.

“No magic. You still be here when Crunch come back?”

“I’ll be here, Crunch,” Biff replied.

Crunch went out, still careful to lock the door behind him. There could be no doubt that his liking for Biff was growing, but fear of Dietz still guided the Indian’s actions.

Crunch had been gone about five minutes. Biff stretched out on the cot and turned on his left side. “Ouch,” he said as the pen clipped to his shirt pocket dug into him. He changed the pen to his hip pocket and settled, face down, relaxed. Suddenly he sat up again, took out the pen, and stared at it thoughtfully....

Minutes later, Biff was startled by a call, a call from a voice that was good news to Biff.

“Biff! Biff! Where are you? Sing out so I can come to you.”

“Here, Uncle Charlie! I’m here! In this house. It’s the one farthest from the big house.”

“I’m on my way, Biff!”

Biff leaped to the door. He stood there, hands grasping the bars, straining his eyes to spot his uncle.

He saw him coming at a run.

“Hi, Uncle Charlie!” Biff called. “I knew you’d be back for me!” He could see the big grin on Charlie’s face as he drew nearer.

Biff’s smile of happiness changed to one of dismay. His uncle was only a few feet away. From behind a clump of bushes, Crunch appeared. He leaped out as Charlie passed. His huge arms wrapped around Keene.

“Look out!” Biff cried. It was too late.

Charles Keene, a powerful man himself, was helpless in the giant Indian’s grasp.

CHAPTER XVI
A “Magic” Alarm

Biff watched his uncle struggle to break free of the Indian’s crushing grasp. He saw the tendons in his uncle’s neck grow taut and stand out as Charlie Keene heaved his shoulders with every bit of his strength.

It was as if his uncle were trying to break loose from iron bands.

“Crunch! Crunch,” Biff shouted. “Let him go! Let him go!”

The Indian only shook his head.

Biff strained at the iron bars, furious that he was unable to go to his uncle’s aid.

“I’m your friend, Crunch! So is that man. He’s my uncle. Let him go!”

Crunch ignored Biff. Charlie’s face was turning red. The powerful Crunch was actually trying to crush his smaller opponent. Biff knew he had to do something and do it fast. But what?

Biff realized that if he were to keep his uncle from having some ribs cracked, it would have to be brains against brawn. Maybe Biff could play on the Indian’s superstition.

“Crunch!” he shouted again. “If you don’t let him go, I’ll make more magic—bad magic.”

At first the words had no effect on Crunch. But after a few moments, Biff’s threat seemed to sink in. Crunch released some of his pressure, but still held Charlie Keene firmly.

“If you don’t let him go, I’ll make the magic that takes me out of this house,” Biff threatened.

Crunch was listening now.

“I’ll disappear, Crunch. Watch.”

Biff moved away from the doorway. He went to the window to the right of the door. He stayed below the opening so Crunch couldn’t see him.

“Where am I, Crunch?” Biff called out. “You think I’m at this window, don’t you? You hear my voice at this window. But I’m not here. Only my voice is. My body is at the other window.”

Biff leaped across the small room at his last word and sprang into view at the window to the left of the door. As he looked out, Crunch was still watching the other window.

Biff banged the bars of the window, being careful not to speak. Crunch swung his head around. The sight of Biff startled him. Biff ducked down. He cupped his hands and held them to his mouth. Turning his head in the direction of the other window, he called in a low voice:

“But my voice is still where you first heard it!”

Biff raised his head slowly. The simple trick was working. Crunch had turned to the other window.

“Now my voice and body are back together again, Crunch!”

The startled expression on Crunch’s face showed the giant Indian’s confusion. He was becoming frightened.

“If I only had a clincher,” Biff thought. “Something that would really impress Crunch.” Biff’s eyes lit on the alarm clock. An idea popped into his head.

“I’m going to disappear, Crunch,” he called. “But I’ll return. And if I return, you will have to release that man.”

MYSTERYOF THECARIBBEANPEARLS

Contents

MYSTERY OF THE CARIBBEAN PEARLS

CHAPTER IDiscovery!

CHAPTER IISeeing Double

CHAPTER IIIBackfire

CHAPTER IVWho’s Fooling Whom?

CHAPTER VAppear and Disappear

CHAPTER VICrunch

CHAPTER VIIGay Curaçao

CHAPTER VIIIUncle Charlie Spins a Yarn

CHAPTER IXOutmatched

CHAPTER XPlan of Action

CHAPTER XIBiff Meets Crunch

CHAPTER XIIDouble Chance

CHAPTER XIIITurnabout

CHAPTER XIVA Talk with Crunch

CHAPTER XVAlmost Away

CHAPTER XVIA “Magic” Alarm

MYSTERY
OF THE
CARIBBEAN
PEARLS

CHAPTER I
Discovery!

CHAPTER II
Seeing Double

CHAPTER III
Backfire

CHAPTER IV
Who’s Fooling Whom?

CHAPTER V
Appear and Disappear

CHAPTER VI
Crunch

CHAPTER VII
Gay Curaçao

CHAPTER VIII
Uncle Charlie Spins a Yarn

CHAPTER IX
Outmatched

CHAPTER X
Plan of Action

CHAPTER XI
Biff Meets Crunch

CHAPTER XII
Double Chance

CHAPTER XIII
Turnabout

CHAPTER XIV
A Talk with Crunch

CHAPTER XV
Almost Away

CHAPTER XVI
A “Magic” Alarm