Bob lifted it off.
He saw the long thin nose, the slightly sunken cheeks. He saw the crease, like a scar, under the man’s right eye.
He was looking down at Paul Donner.
“There he is,” Slater shouted excitedly. “There’s that way-ul.”
He lowered his binoculars. “You were right, boy. He’s there in that cove.” He hurried down to the cockpit and took the wheel from Jupe.
Constance had seen Fluke too. As Slater steered the boat into the cove, she leaned over the rail.
“Fluke,” she called. “Fluke.”
He heard her at once. He raised his head and swam eagerly out to greet her.
“The box.” Slater half turned from the wheel. He was staring at Fluke’s head. “He’s lost the box,” he yelled.
Jupe had his eyes on the shore. He saw the man lying there on the sand with Bob standing beside him.
Bob waved, then lifted his circled thumb and forefinger in the okay signal.
“I think the sooner we get ashore the better, Pete,” Jupe said. “Before Slater figures out what happened.”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Pete was still wearing his wet suit. He slipped over the side and swam quickly to the beach. Jupe peeled off the shirt he had borrowed from the ship’s locker and followed Pete as fast as he could.
“Paul Donner.” Jupe and Pete stood looking down at the drenched, gasping man stretched out on the beach. “What’s he doing here? What happened, Bob?” Jupe asked.
Bob hastily explained everything that had happened at the cove since he saw Fluke swim in. He told them how he had taken the metal case off Fluke’s head, how the giant had attacked him and Fluke had come to his rescue, then his discovery that the giant wasn’t a giant at all. He was only a tall, thin man wearing a padded Windbreaker. He was Paul Donner.
“He almost drowned,” Bob finished. “But I gave him artificial respiration and I think he’ll be okay now. He isn’t very strong, and he’s just exhausted.”
Jupe glanced quickly over his shoulder. Slater had brought the boat in and anchored it as close to the beach as he could. He was wading ashore toward them. His bald head was gleaming with determination. He looked angry and menacing.
“The metal case?” Jupe whispered to Bob. “What did you do with it?”
“I hid it —”
Bob broke off. Slater had reached the dry sand and was standing facing him.
“All right, boy.” Slater had hardly glanced at Paul Donner. He didn’t seem in the least surprised to see him there. He didn’t seem interested. His whole threatening attention was focused on Bob.
“All right, boy,” Slater repeated. “Give me that box.”
“What box?” Bob nudged Pete. What was needed right now, he thought, was one of the Second Investigator’s flying tackles. A flying tackle and a ramble and scramble to grab the metal case and take off on their bicycles.
“Cut that out.”
It was as though Slater had read his thoughts.
“No tricks now, boy.”
Slater was wet up to his waist, but the short denim jacket he was wearing was quite dry. He reached inside it with his right hand. When he brought it out again he was holding a small snub-nosed pistol.
He pointed it at Bob.
“The metal cay-us,” he said. “The one that whale brought in to you. I want that cay-us.”
Bob glanced helplessly at Jupe. Jupe was looking at the pistol in Slater’s hand. Although he had never fired one himself, the First Investigator knew a lot about guns. In theory. The one Slater was holding had a very short barrel. Its accurate range couldn’t be more than ten yards, Jupe decided. But Slater was holding it less than a foot from Bob’s chest.
“Okay, Bob,” Jupe said. “You’d better give it to him.”
Bob nodded. He couldn’t help agreeing with him wholeheartedly.
He walked up the beach to the rock where he had hidden the case. Slater followed close behind. Bob pulled out the box. Slater reached for it.
“N-o-o-o!”
For a moment Bob couldn’t understand where the anguished scream had come from. Then he saw that Paul Donner had managed to struggle to his feet and was lurching up the beach toward them.
Slater half turned. The scream had startled him too. As he spun around to face Donner he had his back to Bob. Jupe was only a few yards away. The First Investigator nodded, stretching out his hands. Bob threw him the box. Jupe caught it.
“You cheat.” Paul Donner had reached Slater. “You traitor!” he screamed. “You liar. You blackmailer.”
He was clawing at the bald man’s chest, straining to get his hands around his throat. Slater lowered his gun and tried to push him away. Paul Donner fell backward, pulling Slater on top of him.
Jupe was still holding the box. Pete was standing ten yards away down the beach. A little way out at sea Constance, who had been busy with Fluke, had heard the scream too. She was swimming rapidly in toward the shore with Fluke beside her.
Jupe threw the box to Pete.
Slater rose slowly to his feet, leaving Donner lying on the sand. All the fight had gone out of the tall, thin man. He climbed weakly to his knees.
Pete had caught the box.
He saw Constance swimming to shore. He saw Slater look at Bob and then at Jupe, searching for the precious case. Pete didn’t wait for Slater to look in his direction. Hugging the box against his chest, he raced for the ocean.
Slater ran after him.
Pete reached the sea’s edge. He waded out until the water was up to his waist. Slater wasn’t far behind him now.
“Stop!” Slater shouted.
Pete couldn’t see him. But he could feel that gun pointing straight at his back. It was one of the most unpleasant feelings he had ever had in his life.
He stopped.
“Here.” Constance lifted her arms out of the water. “Pete, here.”