The Flying Stingaree Part 7

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 pa.s.senger 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 Sh.o.r.e 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?"

"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research project."

"To be followed by a second project," Scotty added. "First we read up on Calvert's Favor, and then we find it and look it over."

Rick grinned. "n.o.body warns Scotty with impunity."

"But n.o.body!" Scotty said cheerfully.

CHAPTER VI

The Saucer Sighters

"We shoot a line straight north," Rick explained, "for a distance of about twenty miles. Then we start asking questions. If we get affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and repeat the process. We do this until we come to an area where saucers have not been sighted. Okay?"

Scotty nodded. "Okay. There is only one tiny flaw in this plan. If we head straight north, we drop Steve's car into the Little Choptank. If we cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main Choptank."

Rick sighed. "If there is anything I detest, loathe, and despise, it is people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. We will go to Cambridge, missing the Little Choptank, and cross the Choptank on the bridge. Route 50 goes almost straight north. Is that more precise and acceptable, Donald?"

"It is indeed, Richard. I'm a stickler for accuracy."

"You're a stickler in the mud. Let's get a notebook and start traveling."

A conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of action. The boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the various sightings had in common. The way to obtain the statistics was through interviews.

The problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still remained. Steve's books had disclosed that Calvert's Favor was famous, that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been granted the land by Lord Calvert, that it had changed hands only twice in more than a century. What the books didn't give was its location. The place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the original land grant." There was no mention of a Calvert Creek in the vicinity. They decided to put the question of its location aside until Steve's return.

It was a lovely morning. The convertible hummed smoothly over the blacktop roads to Cambridge, onto Route 50, across the Choptank River and north. Rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to Easton. "Think we're far enough north?"

Scotty had been consulting a road map. He shook his head. "Not yet.

Easton is almost due east of Knapps Narrows, and we know the saucers have been sighted there. Better go on to Wye Mills."

"Okay." The road was dual-lane cement, now, and Rick relaxed while the car sped northward. "Odd name, Wye Mills. Lots of Wyes around here.

Three Wye Rivers on the chart, a Wye Landing, and a famous old Wye Oak."

"Sounds like a song," Scotty said. "Wye, tell me Wye, are there saucers in the sky--"

"Please," Rick protested, "I'm in pain."

Route 50 turned at Wye Mills, leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that crossed the bay to Annapolis. There was a gas station and lunch stand at the intersection. Rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "Fill it up, please. Any bottles of c.o.ke around?"

"In the machine." The attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor.

The boys equipped themselves with c.o.kes and walked back to watch the attendant fill the tank. "We must be somewhere near where all those flying saucers were sighted," Rick remarked.

The attendant looked up. "Farther south. Never heard of anyone this far north seein' one. They see plenty down toward Cambridge. Ask me, they're seein' spots in front of their eyes."

The boys exchanged glances. When the car was ready, Rick turned and started south again. "See any stores on the way where we could ask again?"

"There's a restaurant. I saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to Cambridge." Scotty was making a note in their notebook.