“I think it was just poisonous of you not to let us know!” Hattie May pouted. “I’d just have adored going to a police station!”

“But there wasn’t time, Hattie May,” I protested. “We just had to rush off to catch the bus as soon as we thought of it.”

“That’s just an excuse,” she declared. “You could have phoned me and I’d have come right away. I’ll bet I could have managed those policemen!”

“But they didn’t need any managing! All we had to do was to show ’em the picture.”

Hamish, who had been lounging on the porch rail, gazing gloomily into space, sighed heavily. “Well,” he said, “I guess me and Hattie May might as well go back home. We don’t seem to be much use round here.”

“Nonsense, Hamish,” I said. “You ought to be rejoicing that Michael doesn’t have to go to court, instead of grousing around.”

“Of course I’m glad he got off,” Hamish returned with dignity. “But, considerin’ everything, I don’t think you ought to have taken an important step like that without consulting me.”

I began to feel annoyed. “Well,” I sputtered, “you weren’t so awfully anxious to help Michael the night he was arrested. Why didn’t you talk then?”

Hamish looked more grieved than he had before. “Girls don’t understand ’bout such things,” he said. “If I’d popped out of those bushes when they were taking Michael away, they’d simply have taken me along too and asked questions later!”

“Well, don’t let’s argue,” Eve said soothingly. “Michael’s free—that’s the main thing!”

Hamish did not answer. He drew a small square package from his pocket and eyed it sardonically. “Just money thrown away!” he muttered.

“What’s that?” Eve asked dimpling. “A present for me!”

“No it isn’t. It’s a little contraption I picked up for Michael—thought it would help him while away the long hours of his—er—incarceration!”

“Hamish Lewis,” I cried, “how can you talk in that cold-blooded, outrageous, unfeeling, mean manner?”

“Well you don’t need to get excited, he isn’t going, is he? But the way things were day before yesterday, it certainly looked as if he was.”

“What is it?” Eve broke in. “Do show me.”

Hamish opened the package and shook out onto his palm several small brass rings looped together. “It’s a puzzle,” he explained. “The thing is to get all the rings onto this big one.”

“Very appropriate for a man in jail!” Hattie May giggled.

Hamish glared at her and returned the puzzle to its box. “No one,” he said, “ever appreciates anything I try to do!”

“Oh, come, Hamish, do cheer up,” Eve urged. “I’m sure there are loads of people who would just eat that puzzle up, so to speak. Folks with spare time on their hands like—” her glance strayed to the house beyond the hedge—“like Captain Trout for instance.”

Hamish brightened visibly. “Do you really think he’d like it?” he said. “But I scarcely know the old bird! Wouldn’t he think it kind of funny if I went over and just said, ‘By the way here’s a present for you’?”

We all laughed. “What about the hair tonic?” I asked. “You were going to give him that.”

Hamish scowled. “That was different,” he said shortly, “entirely a different matter!”

“I tell you,” Eve said jumping up. “Let’s all go over and make him a call. We ought to tell him about Michael’s case being dismissed; perhaps he hasn’t heard. Then Hamish can show him the puzzle and if he warms to it——”

Hattie May was still pouting as we made our way around by the front gate to the Captain’s back door. To my surprise the door was closed, though the cloud of smoke which was issuing from the chimney seemed to indicate that the Captain was at home and doing some cooking.

Hamish was just about to knock when Eve caught his arm. “Listen!” she whispered.

From behind the door came the sound of voices. One of them, slightly nasal, I recognized as the Captain’s. The other was low-pitched and gruff. “He’s got company,” I whispered. “Maybe we’d better not bother him just now.”

Hamish looked disappointed. And we were still hesitating when the door was flung violently open and the Captain himself burst out. “Hot as blazes in there, Biscuits!” he sputtered. “Need some air——” He stopped short as he became aware of our presence. “Well, well, well, bless my boots!” With that he turned and closed the door behind him with a slam and advanced to the middle of the porch, where he stood gazing at the street.

But the door had not closed before I had had a fleeting glimpse of a figure bent over the stove—a short thickset figure in a sailor’s trousers and a sleeveless shirt.

“Something smells awfully good,” Eve said by way of relieving the embarrassment which seemed to have seized us all. “We came over to tell you about Michael,” she added. “His case has been dismissed.”

“You don’t say—well, that’s fine!” The Captain motioned us to seats and began fumbling for his pipe. “Glad you dropped in; tell me all about it.”

While we told the story for the second time that morning, I was conscious that the Captain’s eyes strayed every now and then toward the closed door as if he were fearful that it might open. All the time we talked the clatter of pans and the sound of sizzling fat reached us and once I distinctly heard a raucous cough.

It was after a particularly loud crash as if some large tin receptacle had fallen to the floor that the Captain remarked with a nervous chuckle, “Got me a new cook. He thinks he’s in a ship’s galley, I guess! Ha, ha!”

“It must be awfully hot cooking on a day like this,” Hattie May remarked guilelessly. “I should think he’d want the door open.”

The Captain shook his head positively. “Not a bit of it. He likes it hot—used to it. Tropics, you know; the hotter, the better! Why, would you believe it, I actually had to go up attic last night and bring him down a winter blanket? Said he had a chill!”

“Really!” exclaimed Hattie May. “The poor fellow!”

It was at this moment that the Captain’s fear was realized. The door did open but it was only a crack, just enough to let out a strong odor of frying grease borne on a cloud of smoke and, with it, the form of Daisy June, her tail erect and her fur on end.

“Jumpin’ Jericho!” exploded the Captain jumping to his feet. But before he could reach the door, it had slammed again, while the kitten streaked across the grass and disappeared under a bush.

“I’m afraid we’re keeping you from your dinner,” Eve said, rising.

“Not a bit of it,” the Captain assured her. But as if to give denial to his assertion, at that moment a ship’s gong was heard booming loudly from within. Mechanically we all got to our feet. “Aunt Cal’s awfully annoyed with us when we don’t come to dinner on time,” Eve went on conversationally. “I really think you ought to go in, Captain.”

“Well, well, that’s too bad!” The Captain’s polite protestations followed us as we descended the steps and marched, in single file, to the front gate. No one spoke till we had reached Aunt Cal’s side porch. We seated ourselves in a row on the top step. It was Hattie May who broke the silence. “Another mystery!” she exclaimed. “I guess Hamish and I’ll stay the week out anyway.”

“Fat chance,” said Hamish, “of finding out anything with that door kept shut! And the Captain guarding it like a bally old sea dog or sumpin.”

“I dare say,” I said lightly, “that there’s really no mystery at all. Perhaps the Captain simply considered that the seafaring gentleman from the tropics wasn’t fit company for what he calls ‘young ladies’.”

Hattie May shook her head emphatically. “Nonsense! He was jumpy as a rabbit! There’s more to it than that.”

“It did all seem a little—queer,” Eve mused. “What do you think, Hamish?”

Hamish looked appeased at this deference to his opinion. “Well if you want to know what I think,” he stated significantly, “I think he’s hiding someone!”

“Do you mean—Bangs?” I breathed. And we all stared at Hamish’s round solemn face.

“That’s what he calls himself!” he answered.

“Hamish, for Pete’s sake, what are you driving at?” his sister burst out. “If you’ve got anything to tell why on earth don’t you tell it? You’re not in the secret service yet, you know! Stop acting like a ‘G’ man.”

“Oh, all right, all right—make fun of me! Treat me ’sif I was Buddie, the Boy Detective, if you want to!” He got up stiffly and started down the path toward his car.

“Hamish,” called Eve softly, “please don’t go yet. What are we going to do about this—this criminal next door? I’m scared stiff!”

He turned about and regarded her suspiciously. But the sincerity in her brown eyes apparently reassured him. “Well,” he said, coming back and reseating himself, “if you want my advice—I think the place oughta be watched.”

“If the man the Captain’s hiding really is Bangs,” Eve said thoughtfully, “then I think we ought to tell Aunt Cal. She’s very anxious to have a talk with him.”

“Oh, no, you mustn’t do that—not yet!” Hamish returned quickly.

“But why not?” I protested.

“Oh, gosh, don’t you see!” Hamish’s impatience with the female intellect was apparent. “Don’t you see that Bangs—or whatever his name is—is the only person who can lead us to that treasure—or whatever he’s after at Craven House? If he’s arrested, the game’s up.”

“Hamish is perfectly right,” agreed Hattie May in mounting excitement. “What we’ve got to do is to watch!”

“But why should the Captain be hiding the man if it is Bangs?” I demanded. “It makes him guilty too in a way—what is it they call it—an accessory!”

“You can depend upon it,” returned Hamish profoundly, “he has his reasons.”

Aunt Cal opened the door. “Dinner’s ready,” she said.

Hattie May and Hamish got up. “Keep your eye on the place as much as you can,” Hamish said in a whisper. “I’ll be round as soon as it gets dark.”

“You mean you’re going to watch the house all night?” Eve asked.

“Sure. But don’t say anything to your aunt yet. Not until tomorrow anyway. Promise?”

“We-ll, all right,” Eve agreed reluctantly. “We promise.”