There was anger at himself for having been taken in, and a burning desire to get his hands on the man who’d done it.

“I think this is a waste of time,” Quinn said, after an hour.

“Haven’t you got any more?” he asked.

“No. That’ll do.” There was curt dismissal in the tone.

Ingram stood up. “Where is Mrs. Osborne staying?”

“I don’t think I’d bother Mrs. Osborne, under the circumstances,” Schmidt said. “That might have been the last fifty-thousand-dollar yacht she had.”

“What about the Dorado? Do you know where she’s tied up?”

“No. And what difference does it make?”

“I want to find out where they picked up that dinghy.’

“Why?”

“Just say I’m curious. There’s something damned funny about it.”

“You were never more right,” Quinn said coldly. “So why don’t you just get out while you’re ahead?”

* * *

When he emerged on the street the rain had stopped and it was dusk. Neon flamed hotly beneath the darkening blue bowl of the sky, and tires hissed on wet pavement in the ceaseless river of traffic. He walked back to the hotel, feeling his shirt stick to his back with perspiration. The desk clerk looked up with a nervous smile. “Uh—I hope everything’s all right.”

“Yes,” he said.

“I hope you don’t think—I mean, there wasn’t anything I could do. They told me to call them if you checked back in—”

“It’s all right. The key, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The clerk whirled and snatched it from the pigeonhole. There was a slip of paper with it. “Oh. You had a phone call. It was about a half hour ago.”

Ingram read the scribbled message. Call Mrs. Osborne. Columbus Hotel.

That was strange. But maybe she wanted to unburden herself of a few remarks on the subject of meat-heads who helped steal her boat. Probably an imperious old dowager with a voice like a Western Ocean bosun. Well, he intended to call her, but she could wait a few minutes; right now the important thing was to find the Dorado before her crew left for the night. The chances were that he was too late already. He strode to the telephone booth in the corner of the lobby, looked up the number of the Coast Guard base, and was just starting to dial when someone rapped on the glass panel of the door. It was the clerk.

He pushed it open. “Yes?”

“She’s on the line now, sir. She just called back.