Читать книгу Daughter of the Coast Guard - Betty Baxter Anderson - Страница 5

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At noon the next day, Win and Cherry left school together in the Gas Gull, as was their usual custom. “Sorry, but would you mind stopping at the office for just a second?” Cherry asked. “I have to leave the school notes. There are some announcements Mr. Linton wants in this afternoon’s paper.”

“Not at all,” Win agreed. “Ask if there’s anything new on the accident.”

Win double-parked in front of the Tribune office, while Cherry hurried to complete her errand.

In a few minutes, Cherry returned, her smoky-blue eyes smoldering with excitement. “Win, I’ll bet anything those furs were smuggled!”

“How do you know? Dad wouldn’t commit himself. I tried to get his opinion last night.”

Cherry banged the car door, and the roadster sped off to the South Shore Drive, which led to the Coast Guard station, and three blocks beyond, to “Twin Anchors.” “Well, in the first place,” Cherry continued, “not a soul has turned up to claim the furs.”

“How about the driver? Doesn’t he know where they came from?”

“He’s still in a very critical condition, and hasn’t been conscious since he was found. Doctor Knowles believes he’d lain there for hours, and gives him only a fifty-fifty chance to recover.”

“Say, Cherry, can’t you call Mrs. Morrow and tell her you won’t be home for lunch? Then you could stay at my house and tell Dad about it. I really think he should know.”

“Glad to, but I don’t really have very much definite information,” Cherry said.

The ever-cheerful Mandy laid another place on the blue-checked luncheon cloth in the Travers’ dining room and whispered, “You is in luck, Miz’ Cherry. It’s waffles and maple syrup today!”

Cherry nodded appreciatively, and turned to motherly Mrs. Travers. “I really feel guilty about this unexpected visit, but Win thought I should tell her Dad the latest news about the accident——”

Mrs. Travers leaned over and patted Cherry’s shoulder affectionately. “My dear, you should know you’re always welcome. What’s more, you should know that the first bit of equipment in any Coast Guard station is an inexhaustible larder.”

“That’s true,” Cherry dimpled, “but you couldn’t call me a shipwreck victim now.”

Captain Travers bustled in, apologetic for being late. “Had to explain the elementary routine to that pair of recruits who came down from Pentwater this morning.”

“Are they cute, Dad?” Win asked impudently.

“Now, see here, young lady! I’ll have no nonsense like that around my station——”

“Phil! Phil!” Mrs. Travers was chuckling. “You should know she’s just saying that to tease!”

“You’ll have to admit,” Win said, her eyes twinkling, “it never fails to work.”

“Won’t have my routine upset,” Captain Travers went on, grumpily.

“I coaxed Cherry to come to lunch, so she could tell you the latest developments in that accident.”

Briefly, Cherry summarized the news she’d learned at the Tribune office.

The Captain listened in silence, and failed to comment for several minutes. The hungry girls did justice to Mandy’s golden-brown waffles, and then suddenly the officer demanded, “What kind of furs were in that cargo?”

“Why—I don’t know,” Cherry replied. “I didn’t hear anyone say. I’ll call Bill, though, at the office. Perhaps he can tell us.” She excused herself, and went to the telephone in the hall.

When she returned, there was a puzzled look on her face. “Bill says,” she reported, “that that is one of the strangest angles on the story. The sheriff claims no one around the court house is able to recognize the pelts. No one’s ever seen anything like ’em.”

The Captain sighed. “It’s a queer business. Looks like nothing to do now but wait until the driver comes to. Pretty slim evidence to report to my superiors. No indication, at all, that the load was landed from Lake Michigan. And no real indication that the pelts were smuggled.”

“Doctor Knowles, according to Bill, isn’t very hopeful about the injured driver. It may go down,” Cherry said dramatically, “as one of the great unsolved mysteries.”

“We’ll go down,” Win giggled, “in Mr. Linton’s black book for being tardy, if we don’t hurry. Come along, Cherry.”

The guest thanked Mrs. Travers, praised Mandy for the waffles, and turned to follow her hostess.

Just before the roadster reached its familiar parking spot near Lake Haven High, Cherry said impulsively, “Win, how’d you like to go sleuthing with me after school?”

“Fine. Shall we run up to the hospital and throw cold water in the unknown victim’s face, and get an exclusive interview?”

“No, silly. But I’ll bet Sheriff Doty would let us see those furs. Maybe we could tell what they are—and if we can’t, maybe we can find out.” Cherry’s tone was pleading.

The dark-haired girl sighed, as she slipped the key from the ignition. “Something tells me that if I trail you around much longer on the hunt of big stories, I’ll walk right into trouble.”

“Aw, Win! How could we possibly get into trouble on this business?”