en."

They grinned at each other, amused at how much alike their thought
processes were.

"We'd better approach from the back," Scotty suggested.

Rick agreed. "Suppose we cross to the eastern shore, then walk up until
we're in sight of the house. It's close to the northern tip, anyway."

It was almost fully dark now, and no lights appeared in the houses south
of them. As they watched, lights showed far up the beach where the fancy
frogmen lived. But there were no other lights anywhere on the island.

"Just two houses occupied," Rick said.

"We'll probably have more neighbors during the week end," Scotty
answered. "The people in the house south of us must have left, but they
may be back. Come on."

They made their way through the palm grove, watching fruit bats whirl
against the darkening sky. There was a slight breeze, just enough to
make the palms whisper. It reminded Rick of Hawaii.

The eastern shore was rough. The reef was much closer here, and long
swells that had come all the way across the Atlantic sounded like
subdued thunder as they broke. It was dark now, and only the white of
the breaking water could be seen.

They walked up the eastern shore until the lights of the frogmen's house
were directly opposite, then turned toward it, moving with caution.

"Take it easy," Rick whispered. "They may be outside."

As they drew closer they could see that the lights were in the front
rooms of the house. The back was dark, except for light that came
through open inner doors.

"Wait." Scotty whispered. "I'll see if they're out front."

Rick sat down to wait as Scotty vanished. Few could equal his pal when
it came to moving silently and invisibly.

In a surprisingly short time Scotty reappeared. "No one out front," he
reported. "They're all in the living room."

Rick rose, and together they walked swiftly and silently to the rear of
the house. The door of the room in which the diving gear was stowed
opened into the living room. Perhaps they could see in there.

A card game was in progress by the light of a kerosene lamp. Rick
studied the face of a heavy-set, dark-haired man who sat facing him. The
man wore a T shirt that displayed the heavy muscles of arms and chest.
His face was square-jawed and powerful, the eyes set deep under bushy
eyebrows. His hair was short and curly, sprinkled with gray. He looked
like one used to command. Rick's quick imagination pictured him on the
quarterdeck of a slaver, ruli