Cap'n Mike shook his head. "You'd be wasting time. I've already tried. Tom's not saying a word, even to his old friends, and the crew has orders from him not to talk. They're loyal. You'll get nothing out of 'em." "All right," Rick said, disappointed. If the fishermen wouldn't talk to Cap'n Mike they certainly wouldn't talk to him and Scotty. "Then we'll go back to Spindrift and do a couple of chores. We'll come back to Seaford tonight. I'd like to get a look at the _Albatross_, if you can fix it." "Easy." Cap'n Mike rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I'm betting we can get Tom Tyler out of this." Rick scratched his head thoughtfully. "Don't get your hopes too high, Cap'n Mike. We're only a couple of amateurs, remember." "Some amateurs are better than some professionals, no matter what the business. I'm not worried any more." Cap'n Mike walked down to the boat landing in front of the old windmill with them. "How will you come down tonight?" "I'll try to borrow a car," Rick said. "Think Jerry will lend us his, Scotty?" "If he isn't using it. If he is, maybe we can borrow Gus's." Scotty walked to the stern of the launch and untied the line that held it to the pier. Rick loosed the bow line, then jumped into the pilot's seat. As he did so, he sat on a sheet of paper. He had left no paper on the seat. He rescued it and turned it over. There was a message on the back, printed in pencil in huge block letters. Its content sent a sudden shiver through him. He beckoned to Scotty and handed it to him. "Looks like someone can read enough to get our home port off the stern of the launch." Scotty scanned it rapidly, then whistled softly. For Cap'n Mike's benefit, he read it aloud. _KEEP OUT OF THIS. KEEP OUT OF SEAFORD AND STAY AWAY FROM SHANNON. STAY AT SPINDRIFT WHERE YOU BELONG. YOU'LL GET HURT IF YOU DON'T._ Scotty's face took on an injured expression. "To read that," he complained, "you'd think we weren't wanted here!" CHAPTER V The Mysterious Phone Call Rick hung up the phone in the Spindrift library and turned to Scotty. "Jerry is using his car tonight. But Duke says okay. He'll make out a reporter's identity card for you and a photographer's card for me. Only if anything interesting turns up, we have to give him a story." "Good thing papers have rewrite men," Scotty said, grinning. "It's all I can do to write a readable letter. A news story would be way beyond me." Rick picked up the phone again. "I'll see if Gus is using his car." Gus, owner, chief mechanic, and general factotum of the Whiteside Airport, had loaned his car to Rick on several occasions. His hope, he explained every time, was that Rick would drive it to pieces so he could collect the insurance and get a better one. In a moment Gus answered. "It's Gus." "Rick here, Gus. That ancient clunk of yours still running?" Gus's voice assumed wounded dignity. "Are you speaking of my airplane or my automobile?" "Your limousine. Using it tonight?"