He hardly gave him time to wake up completely. "The phone!" he demanded. "What's wrong with it?" The old man stirred drowsily, and blinked sleepy eyes. Then, quite suddenly, he was wide awake and staring. "What's matter?" he muttered. "Who're you? How did you get here?" "Never mind who I am," Fenton said. "Just tell me one thing. Did you give a boat to three men just now? Better not lie about it. I saw them pushing off." The old man shook his head. "Been asleep for an hour," he mumbled. His eyes had darted to the clock on the opposite wall of the boathouse, as if Fenton's question had filled him with alarm and an instant need to find out the time. "But you expected three men to come and take a boat? One of them would be acting kind of frightened." The old man nodded again. "Boss told me to be on the lookout for them. But I must have dozed off." "You know why they wanted a boat in a hurry?" Fenton asked. "Boss tell you?" "No, he just said they were friends of his." "What kind of man is this boss of yours. Has he a police record?" "A police ... record?" "I'd advise you not to go coy on me. Has he ever been in trouble with the police? You ought to know. You work for him." The old man was becoming a little angry now. "Why are you asking me all these questions?" he demanded. "What business is it of yours?" Fenton took out his badge and held it before the old man's eyes. "A cop, eh?" the old man muttered. "I don't want no trouble with the police, mister. I'll tell you everything I know. It ain't much. I only been workin' here three weeks. No police ever came here. But the man who owns the motor yacht out there in the inlet came here and talked to the boss a couple of times. He didn't look like no crook to me. Man about forty or forty-five, hair cut short, and wearing a light-weight suit same color as yours. Figured he must be loaded, to own a motor yacht like that. Dressed like he was, too." "Then what put the idea into your head he might have been a crook?" Fenton asked. "Well, he acted kind of funny, kept his voice low and once I saw him slip the boss some money. And he mentioned the police a couple of times. Boss doesn't know I have sharp ears. I'm seventy-seven but there's nothing wrong with my hearing." "All right," Fenton said. "Now suppose you tell me what I asked you when I shook you awake. What's wrong with that phone over there? I dropped a dime in, but there was no dialing sound." "It's been out of order for two days," the old man said. "There was supposed to be a man come here to fix it yesterday, but he never showed up." "Somebody did a little wire-ripping, maybe?" The old man shook his head. "No, it just went dead on us. Boss jiggled the receiver for about ten minutes, to make sure. He tried it again this morning." "How far is it to the nearest phone?" Fenton asked. "Hell, you got to go back to the road you turned off from and drive for about fifteen minutes. There's a gas station--"