Bob felt it was time to reveal his real mission to the seacoast and in clear, brief words he told the sheriff why he had come down from Washington and what had gone on since he had started south. “You mean to say they had the nerve to kidnap your uncle, a federal agent?” asked the sheriff. “I’m sure they have him and the only thing we know is that the start away from Jacksonville was made by boat.” The sheriff nodded. “That would be a good way. Why, I can think of half a hundred good places to hide a man along this section of the coast.” Then the sheriff went on to explain that shortly before dawn he had been dumped unceremoniously out of the sedan after being released from the handcuffs. “Can you remember any stops?” asked Bob. “Only one. We must have been very close to the ocean, for I was sure I could hear the sound of the surf.” “Any idea in what direction you traveled?” “Nothing that would help much. I was about two miles from Ainsworth when I was dumped out, and I went in there and got another gun and then decided to take the train to Atalissa for I was only about a mile from there when I was kidnaped last night.” “Did you hear anything unusual when you stopped where you thought you could hear the surf?” pressed on Bob. Sheriff McCurdy was silent for a time. “Yes, there was one thing—a humming that was faint and then increased in strength and finally died away.” “It might have been a ’plane,” suggested Bob. “Why, I hadn’t thought of that. Sure, that’s just what it sounded like.” “The driver of the car got out and came back a little after.” “After the humming had died away?” “That’s right,” agreed the sheriff. Bob was elated at this news. He felt that even before his arrival at Atalissa he had stumbled upon a real clue and he hoped upon a worthy aid in the doughty southern sheriff. “Then he went on, later dumping you out of the car?” pressed Bob. The sheriff agreed. “He was none too gentle in dumping me out,” complained the sheriff. “I’d just like to get my hands on him for a few minutes. Believe me, I’d make his bones ache.” There was no question about the irritation or the sincerity of the officer and Bob couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle, for he believed the sheriff perfectly capable of manhandling Joe Hamsa. Bob felt that the time had come to be perfectly frank with the sheriff. “I’m down here on a smuggling case,” he explained. “I’m going to need your help and I may need it badly.” Then he went on to relate in detail everything that had taken place since he had left Washington, revealing even the kidnaping of his uncle. When he was through the sheriff whistled through his whiskers. “I’ve kind of suspected that something queer was going on south of Atalissa, but there were no complaints and I never was able to pick up anything. You think the fellow who kidnaped me was the man on the train with you when you came south?” “From your description, I’m positive it was Hamsa,” replied Bob.