  From the rear of the crowd in the hangar, Pilot Larsen came forward. “Who was in that boat?” he asked. “Could you recognize him?” “The flares died just too soon,” Dick informed him. “Maybe Mr. Everdail saw more than we did.” The millionaire shook his head. “There’s one way to check up,” Jeff suggested. “Who’s not here who was in the house before the life preserver was missed?” “You can learn nothing from that,” Miss Serena spoke up. “Too many are away.” “We can get somewhere, anyhow,” Larry insisted. “Captain Parks, can you account for your men?” “Yes, sir. Those who are not here are in the tender.” “I saw them start to get back Mr. Everdail’s hydroplane,” Sandy nodded. “The fellow who flew with you in the seaplane isn’t here,” remarked Larry, quietly, and, after a glance around, he said: “Neither is the yacht stewardess.” “I sent her to her cabin,” Miss Serena stated. “She was greatly disturbed about this affair.” “Oh!” said Larry, slowly, “she was?” “Yes, but she is a high-strung girl,” argued the lady; and during the silence that followed, she turned to her relative. “Atley,” she told the millionaire, “we are getting nowhere. For my part I believe that the emeralds have already been destroyed!” “Destroyed!” “Certainly. That seemed to be the purpose, in the London hotel. A person as clever as that must have planned this entire affair and has undoubtedly accomplished his wish and vanished long ago—or else he can never be caught because we have no way to discover him.” “He ought to be caught and punished,” Jeff argued. “That-there set of emeralds was too precious for us to let somebody do a thing like this-here.” “We know who was on the yacht,” Larry agreed with Jeff. “At least we can try to find out who threw the emeralds off.” “We know,” Dick broke in. “Don’t you remember that Miss Serena recognized the maid—Mimi—by her uniform?” “Then why don’t we go and question her?” Larry suggested. “Make her tell what she knows!” A murmur of assent broke out among the seamen who were naturally anxious to be cleared of any possible suspicion. “Did you get an answer from Mrs. Everdail when you telegraphed her about Mimi?” asked Dick. Mr. Everdail shook his head. “Not yet,” he admitted. “I don’t believe Mimi is the one. She was with my wife during the last seven years and you get to know a person’s character in that time.” “Just the same,” Larry insisted, “many respected bank tellers have been discovered for what they were after bank money disappeared.” “As I live and breathe!” Mr. Everdail spoke gruffly, “I begin to wonder if you shouldn’t be the one to have ‘suspicious’ for a nickname. You have suspected Jeff, and me, and my friend who was with me, and Larsen, here, and his passenger—Captain Parks and now Mimi! It will be Miss Serena next!” “My gracious!” that lady exclaimed, “I hope not!” “I never will,” Dick declared. “I guess I caught the disease from Sandy,” Larry was red-faced, “I admit I deserve the nickname now.” “If Sandy doesn’t object to losing the nickname, then—” Mr. Everdail smiled a little teasingly. “Oh, he’s welcome to it,” Sandy cried. “I’ve turned over a new leaf!” “How’s that?” Jeff wanted to know. “I used to take one little thing for a start, and make up my mind that whoever did it was the one I must suspect,” Sandy explained. “But that’s like trying to prove a man guilty because I think he may be.” “That’s so,” Dick began to chuckle. “Pinning clues onto folks is like the clothing salesman who tried to sell a white linen suit to a man who wanted a dark grey one. ‘I’ll give you what you want,’ the salesman said—and he went over and pulled down all the shades!” “And that-there suit looked dark!” chuckled Jeff. “Now I mean to listen, and watch, and not suspect anybody, as if I had a dark suit and a light one to sell and I’d wait to see who the different suits fitted!” Breaking into a hearty laugh, Jeff slapped Sandy on the shoulder. “That-there’s the ticket,” he said. “By the way,” Captain Parks turned to his employer. “How about that cruise around New York to see the buildings lighted up that you told me to get the yacht ready for?” “As I live and breathe!” Mr. Everdail slapped his thigh. “I forgot all about our birthday dinner and cruise for Sandy.” “Well, the dinner was being got ready when you sent for us,” remarked the captain. “A birthday dinner for me?” “Meant for a surprise?” chimed in Dick. “I’m starving,” laughed Larry. “Then let’s go on board the Tramp and see what the chef trots out.” Mr. Everdail led the way, inviting the others who had not originally been planned for. “Thanks,” Larsen stated, “I’m too tired. Me for bed.” “That’s right,” laughed Dick. “After a crack-up, always take a rest-up.” “Now we’ll shelve this mystery.” Mr. Everdail led the way to the tender which would transfer them to the yacht for the evening run around illuminated Manhattan. “Eat, and have a good time, Sky Patrol.” “We will, gladly, sir,” agreed Larry. With the zest of healthy youth the chums “shelved” the mystery and hid their chagrin at being wrong again. The repast provided by the yacht chef was worth their attention. Especially palatable was the iced lemonade which the hot, humid night made very delightful. “How do they get these ice-cubes the same tint as the lemonade?” Larry wondered, admiring the yellowish tone of the cubes, as he stirred the clinking mixture in his tall glass. Dick grinned. “Dye!” he chuckled. “If you want special food or drink you have to dye-it!” “To diet!” Jeff caught the pun. “That-there’s a hot one!” “It leaves me ‘cold’,” Larry came back at him. “But I’m interested about this ice.” “Why?” asked Mr. Everdail, curiously. “It’s simple enough,” the youngest member of the Sky Patrol broke in. “They pour some of the lemonade into the compartments in the ice-trays and freeze that. It is better than plain ice because it doesn’t weaken the lemonade at all.” “That’s right,” Larry agreed. “Why, Mr. Everdail, I was only curious. I don’t know much about refrigerating plants and I didn’t think they could turn the ice any color they liked—but I see they can.” He dropped the subject, finished his drink and, with the others, partook of a frozen sherbet also prepared in the yacht’s icing plant. Finished, they were invited on deck to see the sights of Manhattan’s night sky, with its millions of electric bulbs, on signs and in high windows, and on skyscraper domes, painting a fairy picture against a dark heaven. “What made you speak about the tinted ice?” Sandy asked, softly. “Only what I explained,” Larry retorted. “I hadn’t thought about colored ice cubes, ever——” “And aren’t you taking any hint from the yellow tones?” Sandy demanded. “No! Why should I?” “Don’t you, Dick?” “Not a thing, Sandy. What’s in your mind?” “Well—think! If they can freeze lemonade, and get yellow ice cubes, they can freeze lime juice—even something darker—and get——” “Green cubes!” Larry broke in. “Yes—or freeze indigo and get blue ones. What of it?” “What would dark green ice cubes conceal?” Both chums stared at Sandy. What would dark green ice cubes conceal?—— Suddenly Dick gripped his arm. “Emeralds!” he almost shouted it, but dropped his voice instead. “What better place could Captain Parks—or anyone else—find if he thought the life preserver idea might be too open?” “But the chef would discover it—they couldn’t be left there!” “Certainly they could.” Sandy was earnest. “If the Captain ordered that they be kept for his special use—and if he drank lime juice. Come on, let’s ask him.” They followed Sandy to the bridge. “Captain,” Sandy asked, “what’s your favorite drink? Lemonade or——” “I’m very fond of lime drinks——” Sandy, elated and panting, turned to Mr. Everdail as Dick and Larry raced away. “Come on, sir,” Sandy panted. “I’ll show you your emeralds!” |
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