Rick thought quickly. "Come on."

Back inside the Sports Center, he went to the manager and borrowed a powerful monocular--a pocket telescope that was really one half of a pair of binoculars. Then he and Scotty went across the street, taking care to keep out of sight of the barbershop by using parked cars as cover.

Rick found a vantage point behind a sedan that had all its windows open. He focused the monocular on the barbershop window.

Vince Lardner, the shop owner and--until now--the sole barber, was cutting the hair of a man Rick recognized as a local resident. A second barber was cutting the hair of another local man, but the barber had his back to the street for the moment.

Rick waited patiently. Scotty asked, "See anything?"

"Only his back. Wait a minute."

Presently the barber spun the chair around and walked to the sink. In a moment he turned and his face came into view in the tight close-up the powerful gla.s.s provided.

Rick sank his teeth into his lip and handed the gla.s.s to Scotty wordlessly.

The pieces were beginning to fall in place now, and the a.s.sumption that the project had been penetrated was a long step closer to proved fact.

The Washington barber had come to Whiteside!

"Wonder what he's after?" Scotty asked.

"One thing is for sure," Rick stated grimly. "He isn't here just to cut hair!"

CHAPTER VIII

The Mind Reader Strikes

Jerry Webster often spoke of himself as "Whiteside's best reporter,"

which Rick considered a fair description, since he was the only reporter in town. Of course Duke Barrows, the editor, did some reporting himself, but that didn't count since he carried the t.i.tle of managing editor.

"I'm a good reporter because I can sense a story," Jerry told Rick and Scotty. "You two have that certain look that spells trouble. What gives?"

"No trouble," Rick answered swiftly. "We just need a little help."

Duke Barrows glanced up from the proof sheets he was editing. "When Spindrift needs a little help, there's always a story in it. We'll make a deal, won't we, Jerry? You give us the story and we'll supply the help."

Rick knew Duke and Jerry well, so it wasn't necessary to beat around the bush. "No story. At least not yet, and I can't even give you a hint. Only we do need help."

"Two kinds," Scotty added.

"That's right. First of all, we have guests at Spindrift. Name of Morrison. You'll pick that up sooner or later, because Barby is running around town with Janice Morrison. What we need is a promise that you won't mention it in the paper."

Duke's eyebrows went up. "Ahah! Trying to suppress legitimate news, are you? What do you think, Jerry?"

Jerry Webster stared up at the ceiling. "I can see the headline now.

'Mysterious Visitors at Spindrift!' Lead paragraph: 'The mystery of strange visitors at Spindrift Island deepened today as members of the scientific foundation threatened the Whiteside _Morning Record_ with drastic action unless the story was withheld.' How's that, Duke?"

"Needs editing," Duke replied, "but you're on the right track. What's the drastic action you're threatening us with?"

Scotty grinned. "Item," he intoned. "Editor and reporter drowned in own ink supply. Bodies found among leftover newspaper copies, apparently discarded with other waste."

"Too good for 'em," Rick disagreed. "How about 'Editor and reporter a.s.sume new dimensions. Rolled to paper thinness in own press.'"

"That's drastic," Duke admitted. "Seriously, Rick, you must have some good reason for asking us to leave out what could only be a small social item."

"It's a good reason, all right," Scotty answered him. "Only we can't tell you what it is, Duke."

The editor looked at Jerry. "What say, can we take it on faith?"

"Too simple," Jerry objected. "We ought to get something in trade."

Scotty made eating motions. "Apple pie, with homemade ice cream?

Sunday night. Said apple pie would be used to pack down a nice, thick steak."

Jerry sighed. "I'm tempted."

"It's a deal," Duke agreed. "Make mine rare. And I add one thing: If there's a story, we get it first."

Rick looked pained. "Don't you always? But chances are, there never will be a story out of this."

"Government deal," Duke said. "It has to be. Okay, Rick. We'll go along. What's the second kind of help?"

Rick breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't doubted that Duke and Jerry would hold the story, but it was always hard to ask a favor without being able to give the reason. "There's a new barber in Vince Lardner's shop."

"Think we're chumps who don't keep up with the news?" Jerry asked, his expression disdainful. "Of course there's a new barber. What of it?"

"We need some information about him. If you'll just let me see your notes, that should do it."

Jerry hesitated and Scotty grinned. "Bet he doesn't have any notes."

Duke glared at Jerry. "See? You've embarra.s.sed the _Record_. I told you to get the story on that barber this morning."

"Time enough later," Jerry retorted, unruffled. "We don't need the dope until tonight, and I'll have it. What kind of information do you want?"

Rick listed the points on his fingers. "Where he came from, his full name, how he happened to get the job--I mean whether he applied directly to Vince or whether he got the job some other way--and how long he expects to stay."

Scotty had a few points, too. "If Vince had a vacancy, find out how long he looked for a barber, and how he got this one. Timing is important, Jerry. Get all you can on it. And ask him a few questions about his ma.s.sage machine, if it's in sight. It looks like the hair gadgets they have in beauty shops."

Editor and reporter stared at the boys curiously. "Why so much interest in the barber?" Jerry demanded.

Rick tried to look casual. "Why, one of our special guests might want a haircut, and we couldn't take a chance that the barber might not be government approved. Simple."

Duke Barrows tilted back in his chair and pushed the green eyeshade to the top of his head. "I get the picture." He ticked off the points on his fingers, mocking Rick. "Strangers at Spindrift. Not to be mentioned. Government work of some kind, for sure, and pretty hot, too. So hot, in fact, that a stranger in Whiteside might possibly be a menace to the strangers at Spindrift. Rick Brant asks help of local reporter. Gets name of stranger. Turns name and details in to some government security officer for a check. How's that?"

"Too good," Rick admitted. He had known it would be impossible to put anything over on Duke. The editor was a sharp cookie. "But keep it quiet, will you, please?"