“That’s a wise deduction, Mr. Holmes, but Dr. Watson noticed something else.” Brad laughed in spite of his uneasiness. “I’d call you the Sherlock Holmes and me Dr. Watson. You were the first to begin picking up clues.” “Strange how so many things have come up to make me know something’s wrong. Even Ned Miller warned me the other day when I mentioned Punaro—that I mustn’t ever let him bring me home, that he’s not my kind.” “Ned’s in a position to know, Kitty, right down there working with him. And say, this is what I wanted to tell you up at the Snack Bar.” “Go ahead. I’ve been bustin’ to hear.” “I noticed Punaro’s shoes the other day when he came in to empty our wastebasket. There’s a scorched streak across them, but he’s evidently tried to polish it away.” “And you really think it could have been caused by a spark igniting spilled gasoline or kerosene?” “It’s possible, yes. But doing work like his, it might have been spilled acid, too. I’m afraid the circumstantial evidence there is far too weak to blame him for the cannery fire.” “Of course. But later developments seem to prove that my suspicions may not be entirely unfounded.” “Say, you were going to tell me something else you noticed out there just now.” “Do you realize he called Cary, doctor, not lieutenant?” “You’re right—he did!” “Everybody else round here calls him lieutenant—those who’ve only known him since he came into the service.” “I’ll say your perception is very keen, Kitty. It seems proof that Cary and Punaro knew each other before they came into the service. I’ll try to find out where they both hail from.” “Do, Brad, if you can. This thing is beginning to look very serious. We’ve got to find out what it’s all about.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER NINE INTO THE MARSHES Kitty had so much on her mind that night she couldn’t sleep until after one o’clock. She didn’t even hear the alarm clock next morning, and was roused by the sunlight streaming across her bed. She pulled on her bathrobe and ran to the kitchen. “What time is it?” she asked Jane. “Eight o’clock. Yo’ Pah done et breakfus and went to de horsepital.” “Why didn’t you call me?” “Wa’n’t no use to bother you. You wus sleepin’ jus’ like a sho nuff kitten.” “But there was something special I wanted to talk to Dad about this morning.” “You’ll see him tonight.” “But I’m going with a bunch of Canteen workers to fix supper for the boys on the beach late this afternoon.” Kitty had just started back to her room when the phone rang. She found it was Hazel Dawson. “Listen, dear, I heard you say once you always go to town on Saturday morning,” came her friend’s voice over the wire. “Yes, I do. Is there anything I can get you?” “If it wouldn’t be too much bother, I’d like you to get me a set of chessmen.”