“Somebody at the factory is trying to hold up the repairs?”
“Looks that way. And Ivy swears the explosion in the incinerator was the work of saboteurs. Poor fellow, he almost got a bob-tail for it himself. If he hadn’t had such a wonderful record for five years back I guess he would have.”
“What do you think all this adds up to, Brad?”
“Seems plain as the nose on a man’s face. The incinerator is kept out of order to give a free hand to the spies in getting the stuff out of the hospital and into the marshes, where it can be picked up by the enemy.”
Kitty felt the goose flesh prickle along her spine. She had never dreamed when she came to Palmetto Island and went into Canteen work that she would find herself in the midst of such dangerous intrigue.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kitty saw her father reading the evening paper as Brad brought her home about nine o’clock.
“Won’t you come in?” she asked, though she knew her voice betrayed her weariness.
“Not tonight. You’ve had a full day and better get some rest.”
“I am tired,” she admitted, but she felt a glow of happiness that he was so understanding.
“Guess your dad is sort of lonesome. He’ll want to hear all about what you’ve been doing. He wouldn’t like it, Kit, if he knew what chances you’ve been taking.”
“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “I’d better be careful what I say, or he may try to stop my Sherlock Holmes business.”
When she went into the living room her father glanced over the top of his paper. “Enjoy your trip to the beach?” he asked, still somewhat preoccupied.
“It was wonderful. Almost like old times.” She sat on a footstool near him, and took off the kerchief that had bound up her hair. All the girls had worn slacks and kerchiefs for the picnic instead of their Canteen uniforms.
“A boat’s been sunk offshore. The beach was full of wreckage.”
“Yes. One went down not far from here yesterday.”
“I had no idea so many were still being sunk.”
“One of the boys told us about them capturing a sub that had fresh bread on it from Bayshore Bakery. That seems incredible!”
Her father let his paper slide to his lap and reached for his pipe. “Oh, they’re getting supplies all the time—food, gasoline, and many other things, no doubt.”
