believed a young lady who said she was going for a swim in the Equator pool."
The brunette gave her head a slight toss at hearing Cranston's reference
to her unusual adventure. Cranston's eyes were almost smiling, even though his
lips weren't. Margo couldn't keep up the pretense of being angry.
"I did take a swim, later," she said. "What's more, I found out facts you
wanted to know. Perhaps, though, you'd have preferred for me to go to the Isle
of Pines."
"Not at all," assured Cranston. "If you had, you wouldn't be here to count
the mosquito boats for me. How many were there? Ah, yes; eleven."
Before Margo could think of a retort, the announcer's voice came on again,
stating that the last of the mosquito fleet had reported in at the Miami Yacht
Basin, with no report of a lurking boat along the coast. This was proof
conclusive that Murk Wessel must have continued his flight by land, which, in
turn, backed the report that the suspected murderer had reached New York.
"Yet the Isle of Pines is very pleasant," Cranston remarked. "You would
have enjoyed it, Margo. I'd have done better to count those mosquito boats
myself. I don't think I would have missed one. There were twelve, Margo, not
just eleven."
THIS time, Margo was angry at herself. How she'd missed sight of one ship,
was a riddle. They'd all gone through the drawbridge, which had to rise when
each approached.
She expected Cranston to chide her further, but he didn't. His
understanding of Margo's real emotions was quite as keen as his recognition of
her pretending moods. His casual way of changing the subject softened Margo's
hurt.
"About Nayre -" Cranston reflected. "Did he say why he was going back to
Centralba?"
Margo shook her head.
"They're still looking for him," Cranston continued, "although they're
trying to find Murk first. From the standpoint of circumstantial evidence, it
looks quite bad for Nayre, having Brady all set to fly him away from Miami."
"But Brady hadn't expected Nayre so soon -"
"A good point, Margo, especially because Brady thought you were a friend
of Nayre's. Let's take Nayre at his word. He wanted to get away from the Durez
crowd before they dragged him into business he didn't like. They were powerful,
and he knew it might be troublesome, giving them the slip. So he had his friend
Brady ready."
Margo nodded earnestly. She liked the theory. However, the most important
point remained unexplained.
"Why should Nayre go back to Centralba?" queried Margo. "Any danger from
Durez would certainly be less than the menace of Castenago."
This time, Cranston really smiled.
"You said that Brady wasn't surprised to see you," he told Margo.
"Apparently, he took it for granted that Nayre would have a girl helping him to
escape. Even a girl in a bathing costume didn't faze Brady. Yet Nayre would have
to be a very persuasive chap, to convince a young lady to aid his flight at such
short notice."
"Why, yes. But -"
