"I've thought about it," the old seaman said. "Don't do no good. This is the first time Jim Killian has left town in twenty years, except to go into Newark or New York for a day's shopping."

"Where did he live?" Scotty asked.

"Little Cape Cod cottage over near Tom Tyler. Lived by himself."

"We might start there," Rick said.

"Good a place as any," Cap'n Mike agreed. "Let's get going."

Rick shook his head. "We have to wait for Jerry. Let's sit in the car.

I don't think the hearing will last very long. Tom Tyler is pleading guilty."

They walked to Jerry's car and settled down to wait. Through the windshield Rick watched the townfolk cl.u.s.tered around the courthouse steps and noted that they weren't talking much. He guessed everyone in town knew there was something extraordinary about the wreck of the _Sea Belle_ and he wondered if anyone suspected smuggling activities at Creek House.

He said aloud, "If the Kelsos and Brad Marbek took the stuff up to Salt Creek Bridge before we got there, what boat did they use? The boat we saw in the boathouse was dry, and the boats on the _Albatross_ were hanging on the davits. Maybe we're all wet on that, too."

"Maybe," Scotty agreed glumly. "I've never seen a deal with so many dead ends."

Cap'n Mike sounded alarmed. "You're not giving up, are you, boys?"

"Not a chance. We'll get to the bottom of this sooner or later."

Scotty spoke for both of them.

Cap'n Mike pointed. "The crowd's coming out."

Evidently the hearing was over, because those who had waited inside the building and those lucky enough to get seats were coming out.

Presently Jerry Webster came out, too, tucking his notes into his jacket pocket. He joined them in the car and greeted Cap'n Mike.

"You look like three mourners," he told them. "What's the matter?"

Rick explained briefly, then asked, "Got any bright ideas?"

"Afraid not," Jerry replied. "Finding someone is a tough job even for the police with all their facilities. I don't know how you'd even start."

"We thought of looking his house over," Rick said.

"I wouldn't do that," Jerry replied quickly.

"Why not?"

"You said he left of his own accord, didn't you? You can bet he locked his house up tight. If you try to get in, you'll be guilty of breaking and entering. And even if he left a door open, you've no right to go in. You can bet the neighbors will be on the phone to the constable's office if they see anyone fooling around the house."

"You're right," Rick agreed gloomily.

"There goes his mate now," Cap'n Mike said. "Must have been at the hearing." He pointed to a slender man in a cap and lumberjack's shirt who was crossing the street in front of town hall.

"Think he told you all he knows?" Rick asked.

Cap'n Mike rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Don't know. Maybe he did, and again maybe not. Chick's a quiet one. Never says much and there's no way of telling what goes on inside his head."

"Let's follow him," Scotty suggested.

Jerry looked at him. "What for?"

"For lack of anything else to do," Scotty said. "Can't tell. We've nothing to lose, anyway."

Rick watched the mate reach the opposite sidewalk, then stand uncertainly for a moment, looking back across the street. Then, evidently satisfied, he started off at a brisk walk. It was almost as though he had looked to see if anyone were coming after him, Rick thought.

"Scotty's right," he said quickly. "Let's go after him."

Jerry started the car and pulled away from the curb. He grinned at Rick. "Good thing it's Sat.u.r.day. No paper until Monday morning, so I've plenty of time. But tell me what to do. I'm green at this business."

"Go slow," Rick said. "Watch him."

The mate reached a corner, looked behind him, then turned down the side street.

"Go after him," Rick directed. "Go right on by him and don't anyone look at him. Cap'n, better crouch down. He knows you, but he doesn't know the rest of us."

Jerry swung into the side street and picked up speed. From the corner of his eye Rick saw the mate walking rapidly. He told Jerry to turn right at the next corner and to slow down. The blocks were short; the mate would pa.s.s the corner in a moment.

"Do you know where he lives?" Rick asked the captain.

"Not on this side of town. He lives out in the district toward the main road."

"Any guesses about where he might be heading?"

"Maybe Jake's Grill. It's this way and I've seen him there."

Rick directed Jerry to go on to the next corner and wait. Then he turned and watched the corner they had just pa.s.sed. If the mate kept straight on the side street, they would go around the block. If he turned down the street they had taken, they would simply round the corner again.

The mate turned and came after them.

"Around the corner," Rick directed. "Cap'n, where is this Jake's Grill?"

"If you'd turned left instead of right just then," Cap'n Mike replied as Jerry finished the turn, "you'd have been about at it. It's halfway down the block."

Rick made a quick decision. "Okay, here's where we split up. I'll get out and go to Jake's. The rest of you keep trailing him. If he goes into Jake's, turn around and park at the next corner where you can see the entrance. If he doesn't, follow him and pick me up later."

As they nodded a.s.sent, he got out of the car and waved Jerry on, then he walked swiftly in the opposite direction. He crossed the street from which they had just turned, and caught a glimpse of the mate from the corner of his eye. The man was still walking rapidly. Rick paid no attention to him. He walked at a moderate pace down the street, pausing once to look in a shop-window. A side glance showed him the mate, still coming. Rick resumed walking and came to Jake's Grill, a shabby sort of place with only a half dozen customers. He walked in without hesitation and took a seat at the counter.

The counterman came up and wiped the counter clean in front of him with a rag that might have been white once upon a time. "What'll it be?"

"Coffee," Rick said. He was in a good position, because the back of the counter was lined with a flyspecked mirror through which he could see the whole restaurant.

The mate pushed the door open and paused at the entrance. He reached in his pocket and brought out a crumpled handful of bills and some change. He counted the change, then searched the pocket for more.

There was none. He started for the counter.

He must need more change. For what? Rick's quick survey of the place showed him a phone booth in one corner. Quickly, as the mate approached, he fished out a dollar and thrust it at the counterman.