“Good to see you, Biff. Sorry I had to welcome you this way. But things are beginning to move. I didn’t expect to plunge you into this up to your neck so fast, but I think things are working out better than I had hoped.”
In a low voice, Biff replied, “Uncle Charlie, just before you came in from the balcony, there was a knock on the door. There was another man here, too, not so long ago. A man named Dietz. That knock could have been him.”
“I don’t think so, Biff. I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“Then who could it have been?” Biff asked.
“Why don’t you go to the room next door and find out,” Uncle Charlie suggested, grinning broadly. “Go ahead. Specks won’t give me any trouble.”
Biff shrugged his shoulders, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. He shook his head. That was Uncle Charlie for you. Daring, reckless, always making a mysterious game out of any situation. Keeping up the suspense as long as possible.
Although he didn’t always approve of his uncle’s methods, Biff had to admit that with Uncle Charlie, there was never a dull moment.
“Well?” The big grin was still on Uncle Charlie’s face. It disappeared instantly on Biff’s report.
“There is no one in the room next door,” Biff said in a quiet, steady voice.
“Stay here!” Charles Keene leaped for the door. Biff, standing in the doorway, saw him dash into the adjoining room. He was back out in a flash. No longer did he wear a grin. His expression was as serious as Biff had ever seen it.
Charles Keene walked back to Biff, his brows knitted in worry and anger.
“Who was I supposed to find in the next room?” Biff whispered. “Derek?”
“Yes. It was he who knocked just before I came in. It was this way. We couldn’t be sure how many people might have been in this room. We knew you were. We followed you to the hotel—”
“But how did you know what room I’d be in?”
“Oh, that was easy. I’m well known here at the Del Mar. The clerk told me Dietz’s room number. I took the room next to it.”
“You know Dietz, then?” Biff cut in, glancing sidewise to make sure Specks could not overhear them.
“Do I? He’s a bad one. Getting more and more desperate, too. There’s a pot of gold that he’s afraid we’re going to get to first.”
“Well, not literally; not actually gold. But it’s worth many pots of gold—big ones.”