“COME IN, MISS BARR.”

The FBI man greeted Vicki with a tired smile and offered her a chair. He looked as though he hadn’t had too many hours of restful sleep during the past few nights.

“I had a talk with your young friend, Watson, yesterday. I suppose that’s why you’re here.”

Vicki nodded.

“It was wise of you to have the lad come and see me. I certainly agree that Mr. Duke’s proposal to him was a most unusual one. As soon as the boy left I tried to contact Duke, but discovered that he was in Cuba and was expected back today.”

“Yes, I know,” Vicki said.

Mr. Quayle looked at her sharply for a moment and then went on:

“However, I did make some discreet inquiries about him. It appears that he is in the import-export98 business, engaged in trade between the United States and Cuba. So far as I can tell, his trading is thoroughly respectable and legitimate, being principally concerned with sugar, although he also deals in laces, perfumes, antiques, and other luxury items. He seems to be fairly well known here at the airport, since a great many of his shipments come in by air express and air freight.”

The FBI investigator grinned and reflectively stroked the stubble on his square jaw.

“You remarked a moment ago that you knew Mr. Duke had been in Cuba. Do I gather that you have been doing some sleuthing on your own?”

“A few things were worrying me,” Vicki said seriously, “and I didn’t want to bother you with them until I had a little more to go on. The other day—” She paused and then started over again. “You may remember that when you questioned our crew the other day I mentioned an old man on the flight who seemed to be behaving in a peculiar manner? At the time you didn’t attach much importance to it.”

Mr. Quayle nodded his head slowly as he thought back over the Friday meeting.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“Well,” Vicki went on, “I saw him again today.”

As Vicki told her story, the FBI agent listened99 in attentive silence. Vicki repeated her experience with Mr. Tytell on the plane; how Mr. Eaton-Smith had helped to keep the old man calm; how Mr. Tytell had been so anxious to talk at first, but had lapsed into silence after she had served his lunch; and how she had found the travel folder that seemed to direct her to the Granada Restaurant in Ybor City. She told the story in more detail than she had on Friday, so that Mr. Quayle would get all the background that led up to her present vague suspicions and feeling of unrest.

Then she told about overhearing Raymond Duke’s conversation with Joey Watson in the snack bar and her surprise when Duke directed the taxi driver to take him to the same restaurant that was named on the travel folder Mr. Tytell had left in his seat.

“And so this afternoon, after the pirate crew had landed, I decided to go out to Ybor City and see this restaurant for myself. I thought that maybe Mr. Tytell might be playing his violin in the orchestra.”

Mr. Quayle remained silent, puffing on an old smoke-blackened briar pipe and nodding now and then and muttering “Yes. ... Yes. ... Uh-huh. ... I see.”

Vicki went on with her story. She told about seeing Mr. Eaton-Smith again at his office; of seeing Raymond Duke at the Granada; and finally,100 of finding old Mr. Tytell apparently working as an errand boy for Duke.

“He seemed frightened half to death, Mr. Quayle,” she continued. “He clutched my hand like a little boy and kept saying, ‘I have to talk to you.’ I don’t know what it all adds up to, if anything. But I can’t help having a strange feeling about it.”

“Yes,” Mr. Quayle said, “I can see what you mean.”

“In the firs............