t," Rick said, wincing as the car bounced across Salt Creek
Bridge. "Respect for the genius of Spindrift's two leading detectives.
Can't think of any other reason."

"Unless whatever is going on would be so obvious to anyone who took
the trouble to investigate that the party concerned doesn't even want
two simple-minded souls like us poking around."

"Such modesty," Rick clucked.

"Okay, Hawkshaw," Scotty said resignedly. "On to Seaford. We'll
probably find the answer just as the villain lowers the boom on us."

Rick swung into the Seaford turnoff and slowed for the main street. He
went straight ahead to the water front and then turned right. In a few
moments the car drew up in front of Cap'n Mike's shack.

The captain opened the door and peered out. "Be with you in a minute."
In much less than a minute he was out again, clad in a jacket and
officer's cap.

"Howdy," he greeted them. "See much from your airplane?"

"How did you know it was our airplane?" Rick asked curiously.

"Pshaw! You don't give people credit for knowing much, do you? I'll
bet everyone in Seaford knows about your airplane. Everyone who reads
the Whiteside _Morning Record_, anyway."

"But all Cubs look alike," Rick protested, "and most of them are
painted yellow."

Cap'n Mike snorted. "What of it? No other yellow planes in this area,
and you been seen on the ground in Seaford twice already. What would
anyone think? Especially when you're on a direct bearing for Spindrift
when you leave?"

"He's got something there," Scotty said. "It's a logical conclusion."

Rick had to agree. "Well, you're the guide, Cap'n. Where to?"

"The pier." Cap'n Mike looked at the fast-fading light in the west.
"It's time for the trawlers to be coming in. Reckon we'll talk to a
couple of folks and get a look at the _Albatross_ and her crew."

Rick turned the car around and headed for town. "Why don't you tell us
all you know about the _Albatross_ visiting Creek House?"

"I intended to. First off, the _Albatross_ has been there three times
that I know of. And each time she has put in on her way back from the
fishing grounds. Now, that's mighty strange. First thing a captain
thinks of is getting his fish into port. But not Brad Marbek. Instead,
he lays at the Creek House pier until nigh onto midnight. Then he
puts into the wharf and unloads his fish. What do you make out of
that?"

Rick could make nothing out of it. The _Albatross_ certainly wouldn't
be call