Scotty nodded. "Keep talking."

"Okay. The Kelsos suddenly arrive at Seaford and move into Creek
House. Then the _Albatross_ starts making visits at a time when no
fisherman in his right mind would pay calls. So Brad Marbek must be
going to Creek House on his way back from the fishing grounds for a
good business reason. Right?"

"It figures. Go ahead."

"Tom Tyler spied on Creek House, and he found out something. Red Kelso
warned him, and Tyler refused to take the warning. Result: his ship
was wrecked. We don't know how yet, but we'll find out. Another thing:
Mrs. Tyler was frightened, and Tom Tyler is afraid to talk. What's
your guess on that?"

Scotty kicked a pebble out of the path. "Kelso again. When Tyler
didn't take the first warning, his trawler was wrecked and he was told
that next time something would happen to his family. That's the only
threat they could make stick with a man like Tyler. If they threatened
him, he'd laugh at them. But if they threatened his wife and little
girl ..."

"That's the way I see it, too. Now, what kind of business requires a
boat, a house on a secluded part of the beach, and a guard with a
rifle?"

"Smuggling," Scotty said flatly.

Smuggling. It was the answer that fitted. Rick didn't know yet what
kind of smuggling, but he intended to find out. "If you were the
Kelsos, and if you were bringing contraband into Creek House, how
would you get it out of Seaford?" he asked.

Scotty thought it over. "Not trucks," he said. "Cap'n Mike said he
hadn't seen any trucks calling at Creek House. How about taking it
somewhere in a small boat?"

In his mind's eye Rick saw the countryside surrounding Creek House as
he had seen it from the air. "Right up Salt Creek," he said excitedly.
"How about that? If they unloaded at the pier when the _Albatross_
came in and then reloaded into a motor dory or some other kind of
small boat, they could take it right up Salt Creek to the bridge. Then
all they would need would be a truck waiting there. And if they did it
late at night, there wouldn't be any traffic to worry about."

"That must be it!" Scotty exclaimed. Then he sobered. "But how are we
going to find out if that's the answer?"

There was only one way. "I guess we're just going to have to see for
ourselves," Rick said. As they passed the dry cleaning establishment,
he took the bundle of newspaper-wrapped clothes he had been carrying
and dropped them into the night-service opening. A w