Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?" "Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death--meaning the body--the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing." "That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive, until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small town." There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?" "Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is located, will you?" The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the Choptank River. "Heck, Steve, I don't have to ask gran'pop that. Everybody knows where Calvert's Favor is located." "Not everybody," Steve returned. "I don't. How about letting us in on the secret, Jimmy?" "It's no secret. Everybody around here knows it's located across the river from you. It's at the head of Swamp Creek." CHAPTER VII Sighting Data Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was a shade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing over who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew perfectly well that they were just stalling. Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, a little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs." Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point." Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Those dining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too."