As they nodded assent, he got out of the car and waved Jerry on, then he walked swiftly in the opposite direction. He crossed the street from which they had just turned, and caught a glimpse of the mate from the corner of his eye. The man was still walking rapidly. Rick paid no attention to him. He walked at a moderate pace down the street, pausing once to look in a shop-window. A side glance showed him the mate, still coming. Rick resumed walking and came to Jake's Grill, a shabby sort of place with only a half dozen customers. He walked in without hesitation and took a seat at the counter. The counterman came up and wiped the counter clean in front of him with a rag that might have been white once upon a time. "What'll it be?" "Coffee," Rick said. He was in a good position, because the back of the counter was lined with a flyspecked mirror through which he could see the whole restaurant. The mate pushed the door open and paused at the entrance. He reached in his pocket and brought out a crumpled handful of bills and some change. He counted the change, then searched the pocket for more. There was none. He started for the counter. He must need more change. For what? Rick's quick survey of the place showed him a phone booth in one corner. Quickly, as the mate approached, he fished out a dollar and thrust it at the counterman. "Got any change? I have to make a phone call." The counterman took the bill and walked to the cash register. The mate cast a quick glance at Rick, then called, "Sam, I need some change, too. Give me some nickles and dimes for this half-buck." He tossed a fifty-cent piece on the counter. Rick relaxed. Perhaps some of the townfolk had seen his and Scotty's pictures in the paper, but evidently the mate wasn't one of them. There had been no recognition in the man's eyes. The counterman handed Rick a dollar in change and gave the mate some smaller change. He winked. "Gotta call yer girl, Chick?" "Sure have," the mate answered. He had an odd voice, as though his nasal passages were completely blocked with a bad cold. He looked at Rick. "Go ahead, kid, make your call." "After you, sir," Rick said politely. "I'm in no hurry." "Thanks." The mate walked to the booth and shut himself in. Rick got up and wandered casually in that direction, his ears cocked for the mate's words. Unfortunately, the booth was tight. He could hear only a faint murmur. He went back to the counter and started sipping his coffee, keeping his eyes on the booth. He heard the dim tone of bells and his pulse quickened. Those were coins dropping into the slots. The mate was making an out-of-town call! If only he could hear! The hot coffee was almost scalding, but he scarcely noticed. His mind was racing, searching for some way to overhear that conversation. There just wasn't any way. If he walked over and put his ear to the booth, the men sitting at the tables and farther up the counter would see. No, he was sunk this time.