Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a police dog on guard." "Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly. "Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say." "Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've never seen him before?" "No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you where or when." The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised. "That we will," Scotty echoed. The old waiter bowed them to the door. As they were leaving, Rick paused. "Do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?" "Why, sir, that's Mr. Merlin. Summer folks, you might say. He bought one of the old mansions. This is his second summer with us." "Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked. "Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale if you'd like one." "We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you." "Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back." The boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, near fullness, floating just above the horizon. By unspoken agreement, they put the top down on Steve's convertible. Rick was just snapping it in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned, to face the big man of the trio. The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the waiter about Mr. Merlin." "We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick replied. "We meant no discourtesy." "I'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. He didn't smile, even though his voice was pleasant enough. "Mr. Merlin is a very prominent man. He comes down here to get away from people. Naturally, he doesn't welcome inquiries. I'm sure you understand." "We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity." "You're not local boys." It was a statement. "No. We're visitors." "The local people have learned not to ask questions about Mr. Merlin. I suggest you follow their example." The man turned and walked back into the restaurant. The boys stared after him, openmouthed. "If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible way to arouse our curiosity." "I haven't been warned so politely in a long time," Rick agreed. "Come on, son. Let's head for Martins Creek." He slid behind the wheel while Scotty got into the passenger side. Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his bookshelves," he said casually. "So did I. Including one called _Tidewater Maryland_. Lots of pictures of the old estates in that one." "Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?" "Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all night?"