"Number twelve speaking--your party dashed through Patchogue about eleven this morning and was last seen going east at high speed. Lost trace until just a few minutes ago. Find that he has a fishing hut across South Bay on the ocean side. He's bound to come back this way--the question is, when?" "Where are you now?" "Patchogue." "What do you advise?" "Well, I have my motorcycle, and I feel certain he will come back this way. If I went over on the ocean side I might have sand trouble. He has four wheels and a ninety horse roadster. I think I'd better stay here," concluded "Number Twelve." "I believe you are right," replied Updyke. "How about the Sayville road? He might, for a change, cut across and run in by way of the sound. I think I'll put two other men out on this, you to carry out your plan, one to watch the Merrick road, the other on the detour along the sound." "That might be wise although it seems certain he will come back this way. What shall I do when I locate him?" "Serve a 'John Doe' on him and bring him to my office, otherwise trail him to the jumping-off place--in other words, get him!" "By the way, there is a fine looking girl at Patchogue who runs a stand. I wonder how it would do to feel her out about him," queried the operative. "You bet your boots--that's a Parkins lead as sure as you live, even if it does turn out bad." "Then I'd better run back there before she closes up for the day. She's a humdinger to look at," said "Number Twelve" with enthusiasm. "Well, see that she doesn't get your goat. Keep your head on your shoulders and don't be led into any girl trap. Get me at my hotel after seven, through my private wire--'Updyke'--Will be here until six-thirty--So long." CHAPTER VII. THE NEW WINIFRED When "Number 12" reached Patchogue "The Goody Shop" was on the point of being closed. The girl in charge, and a man she called "father," were instructing a young woman how to run the stand for the next two days. They had all but put up the night shutters as the operative climbed off of his machine. "Any sandwiches left?" he enquired, racing to the stand. "Oh, yes--a few nice ones, and some very fine blueberry pie," replied the older girl as smilingly she displayed several huge wedges of assorted pies. "And here's a lovely slice of lemon meringue, the last one left," she urged, and at a nod from her customer, handed it to him on a pasteboard plate, together with a dainty paper napkin. As the operative put his plate upon the sill of the stand and began to eat, the two girls and "father" continued their conversation about a grand ride over to New York next day. Listening in on the conversation he learned which girl was going on the trip--her friend called her Winifred--and when she spoke to the man she addressed him as Mr. Barbour.