by John Blaine
“Then these lead shields could have fallen down because the clasp was loose, right?” the detective asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid they could have,” Stringfellow answered.
The detective heaved a disgusted sigh and rose. “It seems pretty apparent to me that that is just what happened. The loose clasp caused all your trouble.”
“But what about the man we saw?” Rick asked suddenly.
“Man? What man?” the detective questioned.
“These boys claim to have seen a man running away from here last night,” Zircon interrupted. “But we came to the conclusion that in their excitement they imagined they had seen someone.”
“Oh, great!” the detective fumed. “I’m called all the way out here because a piece of equipment has a loose clasp, and a couple of kids start seeing things!” He snorted disdainfully, “Scientists!” Then he walked out
Rick and Scotty walked to the door through which the irate detective had vanished.
“Well, that was short and sweet,” Scotty said. “It was an accident!”
“Are you kidding?” Rick asked sharply.
Scotty grinned. “Why, the detective couldn’t be wrong, could he?”
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“Not only could. He was,” Rick said. “And do you know why?”
Scotty nodded his head. “I’m not dumb,” he said. “Zircon claims that the clasp on the shields was on the blink last night. He told Stringfellow about it, but Stringfellow didn’t see it. Zircon could have knocked it off last night so it would look like an accident when it was found this morning,” Scotty continued. “Or he could have smashed the clasp while we were at breakfast.”
“That’s exactly the way it looks to me,” Rick said. “I think Hobart Zircon may be the man we’ve got to watch!”
CHAPTER VII
The Sign on the Barn
“What are you going to do about Zircon?” Scotty asked.
“There’s little we can do except keep an eye on him, and wait for his next move,” Rick answered. “I wish Dad were here.”
Scotty was deep in thought. Suddenly he said, “Rick, there’s a question that hasn’t been answered. Why would anyone want to wreck this experiment?”
“I think it has something to do with the Stoneridge grant. Remember, it’s worth two million dollars.”
“That’s reason enough, right there,” Scotty declared.
“But the traitor couldn’t work this thing alone,” Rick mused. “I wonder- Do you suppose those men in the sedan could be mixed up in it?”
“Could be,” Scotty said thoughtfully. “But we couldn’t prove it.”
“If the man we saw last night was the traitor,” Rick went on, “he would not have lefr the island. Right?”
“No, he probably circled and got back in the house while all the excitement was going on,” Scotty agreed.
“And don’t forget, it rained last night,” Rick said excitedly. “Why wouldn’t there be tracks?”
Scotty snapped his fingers. “By golly, you’re right. Let’s go look!”
The boys hurried to the laboratory door. The graveled path in front of the entrance was trodden by many feet and useless for tracking purposes, but just beyond the path, at the edge of the orchard, Rick stopped.
“Here! Look, Scotty!”
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There in the still damp ground was a muddy footprint.
“And big too,” Rick added significantly, looking toward Zircon’s huge bulk through the lab window.
“Here’s another one,” Scotty called from a few feet beyond.
Rick hurried to his side, and inch by inch they covered the orchard. A few times they thought the trail had been lost, but each time, one of them would find a heel-print or the impression of a toe in the soft earth. The trail led them deep into the woods of the island and then out on a winding path.
“This leads to the tidal flats,” Rick said. “And look!”
There, plainly engraved in the soft earth of the path, were clear footprints.
They followed the trail at a slow trot. Suddenly Rick stopped dead. The path changed from dirt to solid rock. At that point the trail forked. Another path branched off to the left.
“Where does this one go?” Scotty asked.
“It circles around back to the house and lab,” Rick answered.
“And this one?” Scotty indicated the path that continued straight on across the rocks.
“To the tidal flats,” Rick told him. “And he could have gone either way, because both paths are rocky.”
“Oh, fine!” Scotty said disgustedly. “Where does that leave us?”
“Well, if it was the traitor we saw last night, he’d have taken the left path back to the house. If it was someone from the mainland, he’d have gone straight to the tidal flats. Let’s go have a look there.”
Scotty had not yet seen the back end ofSpindriftIsland . As they walked out into a rocky clearing that fell away in a short but sheer drop to the rock-strewn tidal flats below, he gasped.
“What a view!” he exclaimed. “You can see half ofNew Jersey .”
Rick looked out across the rock-studded water to the endless stretch of alternate woods and patched farm land that lay in every direction in the clear July sunlight. Directly across from the bluff were deep woods.
“We didn’t come for the view,” he said. “This is the only spot where a prowler could get on and off the island. I wonder if he did?”
Scotty stared at the rocky ledge. “It would be impossible to tell now.”
“When the tide is low, it would be easy to cross,” Rick commented. “Right now it’s almost high, but still possible. And last night, when we saw that man, the tide was high.”
“Well, what do we do now?”
Rick shook his head slowly. “We’re stopped right here. I guess all we can accomplish now is to look at Page 32
the view.”
Scotty shaded his eyes and scanned the mainland. “Look,” he said. “You can even read the sign on top of that barn over there, and it must be a mile away.”
“You can read it, not me,” Rick answered with a grin. “You’re the boy with the jungle eyes; and it’s easily two miles away.”
“I can read it all right,” Scotty said. “It says . . . ‘Drink . . . White . . . Cream.’”
Rick jeered. “I thought you were the boy with the X-ray eyes. That sign says ‘Smoke White Cream.’ I know, because we flew over it yesterday.”
Scotty squinted again. “Nope. It says ‘Drink.’ Not ‘Smoke.’ I’m positive, Rick.”
Rick looked thoughtfully at his pal, then turned and stared in the direction of the barn, shading his eyes with his hands.
“Golly, you’re right, Scotty!” he exclaimed as he turned around. “Now what do you suppose that means?” he asked.
“Means?” Scotty looked puzzled. “Look, you’re getting so jumpy you think everything is connected with this business on the island.”
“Yes, I guess you’re right,” Rick agreed. “It’s probably my memory. But I could have sworn-“ He took another look at the sign on the barn and shook his head. “Okay. Let’s go.”
They turned and headed back toward the path to the house. Suddenly Scotty stopped, grabbing Rick’s arm. “Down!” he whispered hoarsely.
The two boys dropped flat and Rick looked at Scotty. “What’s up?” he whispered.
Scotty pointed. “Watch the edge of the cliff-at the tidal flats,” he said.
Rick stared at the ledge toward which Scotty was pointing. For a moment the dazzling sunlight blinded him, but suddenly his heart skipped.
Reaching over the edge of the cliff was a hand!
CHAPTER VIII
A Traitor on theIsland ?
The two boys hugged the rocks as the hand clutched for a firmer hold on the edge of the cliff. Slowly the hand was joined by an arm, then a shoulder and finally a head. A battered felt hat, pulled low over the face, covered the. head. The boys saw the stranger look
quickly about, obviously worried about Page 33
detection.
“It’d take one kick to knock him back down,” Scotty whispered.
Rick took his arm. “No, let him get up first.”
The man hauled himself up and stood erect near the edge of the cliff. Then he started running straight toward the path. The boys were hidden by low bushes and the intruder didn’t see them.
The man bent low, glancing back over his shoulder as he ran. Suddenly he jerked his head up and fear leaped into his eyes.
Scotty flew through the air directly at him. Over on his back the stranger went, swinging wildly. Scotty’s fist flashed back and in the tenth of a second it took to start it toward the intruder’s jaw Rick yelled, “No, Scotty!”
Scotty’s fist held in midair.
Rick leaped to his side and grabbed his arm. “No,” he commanded. “I know him.”
The prostrate figure rolled over with a weak grin. “Hello, Rick,” he said.
“Jerry Webster,” Rick said sternly. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for a story for the Morning Record. But your friend interrupted me.”
The young reporter got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his flashy sports coat. Then he tenderly dusted his battered felt hat.
“You might have been hurt, you idiot,” Rick said. “What’s the big idea?”
“My paper assigned me to cover the rocket,” Jerry answered. “It’s the first real assignment I’ve had. So I thought I’d sneak over and get a little dope for an advance story.” He rubbed his jaw. “I had no idea you were so jealous of your little secrets.”
“The best thing you can do is turn right around and go back to the mainland,” Rick told him. “We’re having troubles enough.”
“Troubles?” An eager look, like a hound’s on the scent, came into the reporter’s face. “What kind of trouble? Remember, in my business bad news makes good news.”
“You’ll get the whole story from Dad when the time comes,” Rick promised. “But don’t try to get any information this way again.”
“Okay,” Jerry said. “I can take a hint.” He grinned and turned swiftly. In a moment he vanished back over the cliff.
Rick and Scotty looked at each other.
“If he could get across those flats so easily, why couldn’t someone else?” Scotty demanded.
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“They could,” Rick agreed. “Jerry didn’t allow himself much margin, though. The tide goes out very early in the morning. It’s almost high tide now. I think we’d better keep an eye on this part of the island.” He took another look at the distant barn. “More stuff to confuse a fellow,” he said soberly.
They went back along the path and in a few minutes reached the clearing near the laboratory.
Rick saw his mother talking to John Stringfellow. She waved to him and he hurried to her side.
“Your father called fromNew York ,” she said. “He won’t be able to get back for two or three days.”
Rick’s heart sank.
“Don’t be disappointed.” Stringfellow smiled. “We can take care of things that long. Certainly nothing more should happen in that short time.”
“Is the work going on?” Rick asked.
“We’re not doing much until your father returns. We’ll need him for the final assembly and instrument calibration. The rest of us know very little about that.”
“I guess there’s nothing to do but wait,” Rick concluded. He yawned suddenly. “What do you say we rest awhile, Scotty?”
They went upstairs to Rick’s room and Scotty flopped at full length on the bed.
“Let’s hope we have a little peace for a while,” Scotty said wearily. “I’m dead.”
“That’s the trouble,” Rick said, dropping into a chair. “We can only hope. The traitor knows we have to wait for his next move. He’s probably planning it right now.”
He turned over the recent events in his mind, searching for some connecting thread, something that would tie them together. There was only one thing that seemed to show a pattern.
He spoke his thoughts aloud. “I don’t think anyone is trying to wreck the experiment entirely. They could have done that with a fire, or an explosion. I think they’re only trying to delay us.”
Scotty came out of his doze. “It makes sense,” he agreed.
“What’s more,” Rick went on, “they tried to make us think all the accidents were plain bad luck. That’s why it was usually something that could be blamed on defective equipment. That relay might have been tampered with, and it would have been easy to cause an overload that would burn things out. But why would they want to slow us down? I don’t get it.”
“It beats me,” Scotty said.
Both boys jumped as a rapping sounded at the door. In a second Rick was on his feet, opening it. Julius Weiss stood there blinking at him.
The little scientist looked up and down the hall a? though to make sure no one was watching, then stepped into the room and closed the door.
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“I must see you,” he said.
Weiss looked frightened.
“What is it, sir?” Rick asked.
The scientist took a deep breath and looked from one boy to the other. “Boys,” he said, “I’m beginning to agree with you.”
“About what?” Rick asked.
“About there being something peculiar going on. Now I find myself the victim!”
Instantly the boys were alert.
The scientist sat down at Rick’s invitation, but he perched on the edge of his chair and rubbed his hands nervously. “I became suspicious last night,” he went on. “It seemed to me that someone had been in my room, although nothing was disturbed. So I decided to set a trap. I put a piece of Scotch tape across the crack between the drawer and the leg of my desk. I have a number of important papers there. I knew that if the drawer were pulled open, the tape would be torn. It was only a small piece. When I looked this morning, the tape was unstuck. I think that someone was looking at the rocket-fuel formula!”
For an instant Rick was hopeful that it might be a tangible clue; then he shook his head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t mean anything, sir. It rained last night, and Scotch tape loses its sticky qualities in wet weather.
The tape probably came unstuck by itself.”
Julius Weiss slumped in his chair. “I didn’t think of that,” he said. “You’re right, of course. Then I have no proof that my desk was disturbed.”
“I’m afraid not, sir.”
“I was so sure.” Weiss stood up. “But I must have been wrong, of course. These things must be accidents after all.” He nodded to the boys and left the room.
Rick looked at Scotty. “Funny. Wouldn’t you think that a wizard like Professor Weiss could think up something smarter than that?”
“Maybe,” Scotty said. “What are you getting at?”
“I don’t think he put the tape on his desk at all,” Rick declared. “I think it was just something he dreamed up to throw suspicion from himself.”
Scotty groaned. “Suppose you’re right? That makes it a bigger mess than ever. Who’s your traitor?
Weiss? You haven’t anything but suspicions about him. No, Rick, it doesn’t stand up. The traitor could still be any scientist on the island.”
CHAPTER IX
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The Black Plane Means Business
It was impossible to stay put with so much tension in the air. Rick and Scotty wandered over to the laboratory and were joined by Dismal, who scampered ahead of them and got underfoot as they walked about, trying to look innocent.
Once Zircon growled at Dismal, who, realizing that he didn’t belong in the sacred precincts of the lab, ran frantically to Rick for moral support.
In the inner workshop they came across Stringfellow. He was looking at a leather case that rested on top of a bookshelf. As the boys came up to him, he smiled and said, “I’d certainly like to own these.”
> Rick recognized them as expensive binoculars of a German make.
“Even the service binoculars weren’t as good as those,” Scotty said admiringly.
Stringfellow slipped them back into the case. “They belong to Professor Weiss,” he explained. “He doesn’t like anyone to handle them. In fact, I didn’t even know he had them until he brought them down here for something.”
The three walked back to the central room, chatting amiably. As they entered the radar transmitter section, they saw Julius Weiss bending over an open panel in the rack.
He looked up, surprised, as they entered, and stammered, “Here’s another part of the panel that burned out. I just discovered it.”
Stringfellow bent low and looked at the coil in Weiss’s hands. “It certainly is burned out,” he said. “And we haven’t another of these on hand.”
“I can run over toNewark and get another,” Rick offered quickly.
“All right,” Stringfellow agreed. “I think your mother wants some groceries, too, so you can stop at Whiteside on the same trip.”
“I’ll get my jacket and see what Mother wants,” Rick said. “Come on, Scotty.”
As they walked to the house, Rick anticipated his friend’s question. “No, I don’t think there was anything treacherous about the coil. I think it was burned out with the rest of the panel.”
Scotty grinned. “I’m getting to be as suspicious as you are.”
After getting the grocery list from his mother, Rick went to the air strip.
“There’s Stringfellow,” Scotty said.
The thin scientist was waiting at the plane. “Just in case you didn’t know the exact specifications, I wrote them down for you,” he said, handing the sheet of paper to Rick.
Rick thanked the scientist and climbed into the plane while Scotty pulled the prop through. He leaped in Page 37
beside Rick and in a moment they were in the air, heading for Whiteside.
Far below, the farm lands ofNew Jersey baked in the July sun. Suddenly Scotty pointed ahead and to the left. “Look, there’s the barn. It says ‘Drink,’ all right.”
