“Sure. But this afternoon something went wrong and we can’t get anything.” Bob knew then that the end of the trail was nearing. “Tell me this: Are there any old estates near here which have been recently occupied?” The owner of the radio, who had shut it off, rejoined the group in time to hear Bob’s question, and it was he who replied. “There’s the old Haskins place about five miles up the shore,” he said. “Someone’s been around there for the last month or so. I went up one day to try and sell some provisions, but they ordered me off.” “Could this speedboat have been bound for the Haskins place?” asked Bob, aiming his question at the young fisherman who had told him about the boat. “Sure, it was going up the shore. But I’ve never seen that boat around here before.” Bob turned to Lieutenant Gibbons. “Looks to me like the Haskins place is our goal. Let’s reconnoiter it in the plane.” “The sooner the better,” agreed the intelligence officer. Bob swung back to the fishermen. “Federal agents are coming in here from Baltimore by car and from Washington by plane. If they arrive before we return, direct them to the Haskins place.” Chapter XXXI THE CHASE ENDS ★ With its motor on full, the amphibian flashed across the cove and wheeled into the air. Bob felt that they were on the last leg of their hunt and he sensed a tenseness of his whole body that was unsettling. Lieutenant Gibbons realized how Bob felt and he leaned over and spoke to the young federal agent. “Let your nerves loosen up a little and keep your head when we get on the ground. If we get in a jam, use your gun only as a last resort. Remember that help will be along soon.” The intelligence officer took out his own automatic and examined it, making sure that the firing mechanism was working perfectly. Bob did likewise and shifted the gun into his right-hand coat pocket. He knew that with the gun there he could shoot through his pocket if necessary. The village of Rubio dropped behind them and a desolate stretch of shore unfolded before their eyes. Lieutenant Gibbons was the first to sight the Haskins place, a rambling old structure well out on a neck of land that projected into the Atlantic. He signalled to the pilot that this was their destination and the naval airman banked the amphibian gracefully. The plane dropped low, flying not more than a hundred feet above the shore. The expansive old house, which had several long wings, was badly in need of paint, as were the outbuildings clustered to the rear. A long, low boathouse was built as a part of the run-down pier and one door was closed, but as the plane flashed by Bob caught a glimpse of a black motorboat and his heart leaped. He seized Lieutenant Gibbons’ arm. “I saw a boat in the shed!” cried Bob. “Let’s get down as soon as possible.”