<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></SPAN>CHAPTER V</h2>
<h3>The Face Is Familiar</h3>
<p>The Bay Gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. A waiter,
elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the Eastern Shore accent, led
them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of
early American history, Maryland style. The Maryland colony had not been
poor, and many of its settlers had been of the English nobility. They
had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from England
and France, and their homes were gracious and livable.</p>
<p>The restaurant followed the pattern. Rick wouldn't have been surprised
to see the ghost of Lord Baltimore walk through one of the arches.</p>
<p>The boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam
fritters, and crab imperial. While they waited, Rick opened the subject
that was on his mind. "How does a stingaree fly?"</p>
<p>Scotty shrugged. "Easy. He climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his
wings, and takes off. He flaps his wings to gain altitude. He steers
with his tail."</p>
<p>"I'm serious," Rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling.</p>
<p>"So am I. Alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a
passing airplane. Or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. Take
your choice."</p>
<p>"I've got a better way. The stingaree poses for his picture. The picture
is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. The
kite gets flown in the wind."</p>
<p>Scotty stared. "Maybe—just maybe—you've got something there. The
stingaree shape would make a good kite. Could what you saw have been a
kite?"</p>
<p>"It's possible." Rick nodded. "The wind was funneling down the creek
pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. There's only one
small difficulty. Why launch a kite that has no string?"</p>
<p>"You certain it didn't have a string?"</p>
<p>"In that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. I'd have seen
it, and maybe felt it. The kite—stingaree, that is—just missed. Of
course, the string might have broken."</p>
<p>"There's another small difficulty," Scotty said thoughtfully. "If it was
a kite, where was it launched and why?"</p>
<p>"Up the creek somewhere. We don't know what's up there."</p>
<p>"True. From the looks, I'd say not much. Maybe some opossums and
muskrats, which don't launch kites."</p>
<p>Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a
look."</p>
<p>"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away."</p>
<p>Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I
could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?"</p>
<p>Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a
disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental
aircraft?"</p>
<p>Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane
in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature
was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no
motor or any kind of power plant."</p>
<p>"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything—except
what made that stingaree fly."</p>
<p>Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking
pins in it."</p>
<p>"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously.</p>
<p>The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot,
and very, very good.</p>
<p>"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last
mouthful.</p>
<p>"I'm a native already," Scotty stated. "The Chesapeake Bay is my home,
if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup."</p>
<p>The clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "Meet a brand-new
Marylander," Scotty announced.</p>
<p>Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the
dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men,
but he couldn't remember where they had met.</p>
<p>"Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in.
Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember."</p>
<p>Scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. He had to turn to pick
it up. When he straightened, he shook his head. "The face is familiar,
but I can't place it."</p>
<p>Rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude
by staring openly. The familiar face was lean, and lined. It was not a
pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a
"distinguished-looking man of middle age." The lips were not especially
thin, but they were tightly held. The chin was firm, with a shadow of
beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. His hair was crisp,
wavy, and pure white.</p>
<p>"Could be of French or Italian ancestry," Rick said. "Or, maybe, Spanish
or Portuguese. Anyway, I'd vote for Southern European."</p>
<p>"On the button," Scotty agreed.</p>
<p>Rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. The eyes were dark
brown, he saw, with heavy lids. The eyebrows, in startling contrast to
the white hair, were dark.</p>
<p>The boy looked up again, his glance guarded. The man was smartly, but
conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at
the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those
affected by some Ivy Leaguers.</p>
<p>The other two men were not familiar. One was almost bald, with a wisp of
sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the
baldness. He wore glasses with clear plastic frames. They sat on a nose
that could have served as a golf-ball model. His lips were almost
nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that Rick wondered why he
didn't conceal it with a beard. He seemed like a complete non-entity. In
contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man
wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt,
and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for Christmas
two decades past.</p>
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<p>The third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face
and eyes that never stopped moving. He sat motionless in his chair,
apparently completely relaxed. Rick knew that the relaxation was
deceptive. Steve Ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the
same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet
been released. The man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy
tan. He spoke only twice while Rick watched, and then only to give
orders to the waiter. The other two men talked steadily, but in such low
tones that the boys could not hear words.</p>
<p>The crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was
forgotten in a new taste treat. After one luscious bite, Rick said, "I'm
going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal.
They'll go crazy."</p>
<p>Excellent food was a tradition in the Brant household. Mrs. Brant was a
superb cook, and both she and Hartson Brant had taught the Spindrift
young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish.</p>
<p>"I'll order the same thing just to keep them company," Scotty offered.</p>
<p>"Generous, always generous," Rick replied. "You'll eat the same thing
even if you have to force it down."</p>
<p>"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed. "Remember where you've seen yonder
diner?"</p>
<p>Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one
in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a
police dog on guard."</p>
<p>"Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly.</p>
<p>"Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say."</p>
<p>"Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've
never seen him before?"</p>
<p>"No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you
where or when."</p>
<p>The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose
reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised.</p>
<p>"That we will," Scotty echoed.</p>
<p>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?"</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked.</p>
<p>"Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale
if you'd like one."</p>
<p>"We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you."</p>
<p>"Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the
waiter about Mr. Merlin."</p>
<p>"We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick
replied. "We meant no discourtesy."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he
looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity."</p>
<p>"You're not local boys." It was a statement.</p>
<p>"No. We're visitors."</p>
<p>"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.</p>
<p>The boys stared after him, openmouthed.</p>
<p>"If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible
way to arouse our curiosity."</p>
<p>"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 passenger side.</p>
<p>Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed
that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his
bookshelves," he said casually.</p>
<p>"So did I. Including one called <i>Tidewater Maryland</i>. Lots of pictures
of the old estates in that one."</p>
<p>"Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?"</p>
<p>"Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all
night?"</p>
<p>"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research
project."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>Rick grinned. "Nobody warns Scotty with impunity."</p>
<p>"But nobody!" Scotty said cheerfully.</p>
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