"Never mind the a.n.a.lysis," Doc Savage told him. "I want you to check the story. Visit the waterfront. See if the things happened that Linningen says happened. Find out if anyone saw Williams start sculling out into the tide rip."

"Right now?" Monk asked reluctantly.

"Immediately. I'm going aboard that schooner in an hour, and I want the information before then."

"O.K.," Monk said, seizing a mackinaw coat of a hideous green-and-yellow check design. "But I just caught Ham Brooks swindling me in a card game, and I was about to deal with him."

Ham Brooks snapped, "Your own stupidity and greed is the only thing that swindled you, you oaf!"

Monk rushed out, growling, "We'll take it up later, you shyster!"

Doc Savage eyed Ham Brooks narrowly. "Have you two started gambling against each other?"

Ham laughed. "Monk? That missing link is too tight to bet a penny against a sure thing. If he had a penny to bet, which he hasn't."

"You two promised to tone down your fussing."

"We have," Ham said virtuously "There hasn't been a blow struck in three days. Although, Heaven knows, he has provoked me."

Doc Savage, who had put up with this interminable quarreling far years, sighed wearily.

"Your job is to get the low-down on Linningen," he told Ham. 'The recent low-down. Does the man need money? Is he mixed up in anything? Use the telephone and contact people who would know, his banker, his friends, and any other leads you can dig up in half an hour."

Ham grinned. "What about his sanity? Do I check on that?"

"The man is sane enough."

"His story didn't sound it," Ham said.

"A story doesn't have to sound reasonable to be true, "Doc reminded him. "We just want to check on this one and make sure it is." Forty minutes later, Doc Savage strode into a smoke-house on the north sh.o.r.e of the bay, a window of which gave a view of the Mary Too lying at anchor.

"Well?" he demanded. "Did Linningen's story check?"

"It did as far as I went," Monk said. "I found two loafers who saw the whole thing. Williams starting out into the tide rip sculling the dinghy. And Gilmore throwing things at Linningen. It checks."

Ham Brooks said, "Linningen has thirty-odd thousand dollars in the bank, about his normal bank account. He isn't in any trouble as far as I can learn. None of his friends have noticed him acting nutty."

"Then the story seems true,' Doc said.

Ham grimaced. "Not to me. Not a balmy yarn like that."

"You two keep an eye on the schooner," Doc directed. "I don't think anything will happen. But keep a watch, anyway"

Monk Mayfair had something on his mind, and when Doc was halfway to the door, he got it out. "Doc, what was the description of the driver of the car that almost ran Linningen down?"

"A little round man who looked so utterly pleasant that Linningen noticed how pleasant he looked, even when he was about to have an accident," Doc told him.

"That's him," Monk said.

"You saw the chap?"

"Yeah, I think he gave me the once-over," Monk replied. "For the love of Mike!"

Monk began to look uncomfortably at the floor. "He sort of gave me the run-around. I got kind of a surprise when I noticed him, because I hadn't seen him around. He was sure a pleasant looking little codger. Kind of made you think of a pint-sized edition of Santa Claus."

"I hope," Doc said, "that his pleasant looks didn't keep you from finding out why he was interested in you."

Monk ducked his head slightly. "That wasn't what kept me from questioning him."

"What did?"

"He went," Monk replied. "And I mean went. First, he turned around and strolled into one of these fisherman's supply stores, and I go in after him, and puff! He wasn't there."

"Couldn't anyone tell you where he went?"

"No one admitted seeing him," Monk replied, looking oddly at Doc. "That was darn funny, too, because the clerks were standing around with nothing to do but watch for customers. They certainly saw me quick enough when I came in.

"Did the incident seem queer to you, Monk?" Doc asked.

Monk made a face. "The guy just walked into the store and ducked out without anyone noticing him, that's all. I don't believe in this wild stuff Linningen was spilling." "I'm going aboard the schooner," Doc said. "Keep an eye on the vessel."

Doc Savage strode to the ferry slip, sent a powerful hail in the direction of the schooner Mary Too, and a dinghy came bobbing toward sh.o.r.e rowed by a sullen middle-aged man with a leathery face. The latter held the dinghy near the slip with one hand and growled, "Jump aboard, if you're Doc Savage."

"You're Kroeger, aren't you?" Doc asked.

Kroeger stiffened, scowling upward, and demanded, "Did somebody tell you that, or is this more goon-dust?"

"Doctor Linningen described you, Kroeger," Doc told him.

"Oh." The man picked up the oars. "You sit in the stern. He began to row.

"Everything all right aboard the vessel?" Doc asked.

Kroeger did not answer immediately. He maintained a sullen silence all the way to the schooner. Then he said bitterly, "Everything's fine, fine, fine!" It had an explosive quality.

Doc noted that the Mary Too was a well-constructed vessel that was a compromise between the yacht type of luxury which appealed to landlubbers and occasional sailors, and the st.u.r.dy deep-sea traditional construction which went to the heart of a real salt-water man. "She's a neat ship," he told Linningen, when the latter popped up from below decks.

"Yes, yes, of course," Linningen agreed nervously "I.... I'm afraid that poor Gilmore is going to be difficult."

"In what way?" Doc asked.

"Well, Gilmore won't leave his stateroom," Linningen explained. "But come below. We'll try again to get him out."

Linningen, with the quick movements of a man on the ragged edge of nerves, hurried below and jerked at the k.n.o.b of a stateroom door. "Still has it locked on the inside," he said with exasperation. "Gilmore, open that door! Stop this foolishness."

From inside the stateroom, there came silence.

"Isn't he speaking?" Doc asked.

Linningen shrugged. "Gilmore has maintained a sullen silence most of the time. I can't understand why he's in a huff, though."

"Did you tell him I was coming aboard?" Doc asked curiously.

"Yes, I did."

"How did he react to that?"

Linningen suddenly pounded on the door with his fist. "This is his reaction, I suppose. Anyway, he went into his stateroom, and hasn't come out, and won't answer."

Doc asked impatiently, "Aren't there portholes through which you can get a look at him? Are you sure he isn't ill?" "There are portholes, all right, and a skylight, too, but he drew the curtains over them," Linningen replied.

"Dammit, I'm going to break the door down."

"That will cost you the price of a repair," Doc reminded him.

"I don't care if it does!" Linningen snapped, and threw his weight against the door. His first attempt was not successful. In a burst of rage, Linningen leaped back, then plunged at the panel, which burst out around the lock. Linningen stumbled inside, immediately blurted, "Good G.o.d! Who are you?"

Doc Savage, stepping to the door, saw an amiable-looking plump little man seated casually on the edge of a bunk. He was familiar, but not because Doc Savage had seen him before. He answered the description of the friendly-faced man who had almost run down Linningen in a car, and who had given Monk the once-over.

Doc pointed at the amiable man. "Is this Gilmore?" he demanded.

"No!" Linningen said. He seemed completely dumfounded.

"Who is he?" Doc asked.

The chubby man answered that himself.

"I'm Mr. Wail," he said.

IV.

Fifteen minutes later, Doc Savage strode angrily on deck and stood there drumming his fingertips on the boomcrutch which supported the mainsail and its boom. Doc's bronze face was composed, but his mind wasn't. Presently he stopped drumming, rubbed his jaw, and walked quickly to the forecastle hatch. The hatch was open, and peering down it, he saw Kroeger and two other sailors sitting at a table playing cribbage.

"Kroeger," Doc said sharply.

Kroeger was smoking a pipe, and removed it to say, "Yes, sir?"

"Did you know Gilmore had left this boat?" Doc asked.

Blankly, Kroeger said, "Huh? He has?" Kroeger thought it over for a moment, then exclaimed, "Hey, he couldn't have. n.o.body came or went but you, Mr. Savage."

"Nevertheless, Gilmore isn't aboard now," Doc told him.

"I don't believe it! This boat ain't so large but that we ear everybody who comes aboard or leaves."

"You didn't see Gilmore leave?"

"I sure didn't."

"Who brought Mr. Wail aboard?"

Kroeger's jaw dropped. "Mr. Wail? Who's he? There ain't n.o.body come aboard but you, Mr. Savage."

"You're positive, are you?"

"You're darn tootin', I'm sure. I'd bet my right arm on it." "You would lose that arm, fellow," Doc told him. "Because Gilmore is gone, and Mr. Wail is aboard."

The sailor grinned foolishly. "Gilmore must have told you his name was Wail. That guy's nutty."

"If Gilmore is the guy who just talked to us or rather didn't talk to us," Doc said dryly, "he has shortened his height about a foot and put on seventy pounds of weight."

Wheeling, Doc went back to the c.o.c.kpit, and encountered Linningen, who looked excited and relieved.

"Mr. Savage, I think this Wail is ready to talk," Linningen exclaimed.

"It's about time," Doc said. He dropped down into the cabin and confronted the chubby Mr. Wail, who gave him an amiable grin. "Have you decided to give an accounting of yourself?" Doc demanded.

Wail's grin widened, giving him an appearance so completely friendly that it was almost unnatural. Wail's voice was soft and had the qualities of a rich, sticky syrup.

"It distresses me to see you unhappy," Wail said. "So I suppose I should relieve your curiosity."

Doc eyed the man narrowly. "Let's have it!" He had not been able to figure Wail, and there were qualities about the man that bothered him. He didn't like the completely happy and friendly manner the man had.

There was something unnatural about it.

"You don't seem to like me," Wail remarked cheerfully.

"Let's not waste time on who likes who," Doc told him briefly. "The point is, there was supposed to be a fellow named Gilmore in that stateroom. We broke in, and we didn't find Gilmore. We found you. Now, let's hear you account for that."

The fat Mr. Wail chuckled. "It's quite simple. I was there. Gilmore wasn't."

Doc said grimly, "It's not that simple, Wail. If anything unpleasant has happened to Gilmore, it will be a lot less simple than that, I can a.s.sure you.

Wail gave a hearty laugh. "Are you threatening me?"

"Draw your own conclusions," Doc retorted.

Shrugging, Wail said, "Well, I was in the stateroom and Gilmore wasn't. As to why I wouldn't open the door - I notice it seems to bother you - it was simply because I didn't wish to open the door. Why?

Because I was irked."

"Irked by what?" Doc demanded.

"By being struck over the head." Wail examined Doc's face for disbelief, saw plenty of it, and laughed heartily. "Really, I'm not spoofing you. I came aboard and went into that stateroom, and someone sapped me over the head. I didn't see my a.s.sailant, but I could hazard a guess as to who it was?"