caught the TV show," he said. "How does that tie in with a complaint?"
"I'm coming to that," Diana said patiently. "You remember I told the audience I had traced the Scorpia band to within 50 years of the present time?"
Mulcade nodded and settled back in his big chair.
"Well, tonight, just an hour ago, a man stopped me while I was walking home and told me to forget all about the Scorpia."
Chief Mulcade looked incredulous.
"A seventeenth century pirate band?" he said. "You must be joking."
Diana shook her head.
"I've never been more serious, Chief," she said. "He threatened me in no uncertain terms. Told me to give up digging into Scorpia's history."
"It's perfectly true, Chief," David Palmer put in. "The man said he was giving her his first and last warning."
"He did?" said Mulcade. "That's serious. What did he look like?"
He took down notes as Diana gave him the description.
"He was driving a dark Cadillac," the girl concluded. "I couldn't get the license number. It was too dark and besides he had his lights switched off."
"Driving without lights too," said Mulcade gloomily. "The list of offenses is mounting up."
David Palmer grinned as he belched sparks and smoke from his pipe.
"That's exceeding the permitted pollution level too while we're at it," Mulcade grunted, indicating the pipe.
"You'll be arresting us next," said Diana, laughing.
They broke off as a burly patrolman came in with a tray containing plates of sandwiches, a coffee pot, cups and saucers. He was so absorbed in looking at Diana that he almost missed his footing as he put the tray down. The Chief poured. When his two guests had started on the coffee and sandwiches he picked up the phone again.
"I'll get this description sent up to Records," he said. "They may know something. I'll also run a check on Scorpia."
"I'd feel a lot better if you did," Diana told him, putting down her coffee cup.
"We can't have people threatened like this in Westchester," Mulcade growled, spitting instructions into the phone. He put the instrument back onto its cradle and downed more coffee.
"How's the movie business, Dave?" he asked.
David Palmer scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Sick, Jeremiah," he said, "but we scrape along."
The Chief nodded his head in sympathy.
"Yeah, guess you're right. Who's going out to see a bad movie when they can see a bad one right in their own home?"
His broad grin at David Palmer took the sting out of his words.
"All the same," the Chief mused. "It was a real occasion in the thirties when we stood in line for Gary Cooper and Shirley Temple. We won't see that again, unfortunately."
His nostalgic remarks were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He picked it up briskly.
"Listening," he grunted. "Yeah, yeah. Got you. Well, keep at it."
He put the instrument down and sighed. He spread his hands wide on the blotter.
"We've got nothing in Records. No trace of anything called the Scorpia. We'll have to check with New York and Washington, of course, which will take time. And your blond man, Miss Palmer, doesn't match up with anyone known locally. We'll try and get some mug shots for you to look at. Apart from that, I'm sorry we can't be more helpful. Would you like me to put a watch on your house?"
David Palmer looked at Diana and then shook his head.
"I don't think that's necessary, Chief," he said. "But thanks just the same. We'd better be running along."
"If there's anything we can do, just give me a ring," Mul- cade said.
Diana and her uncle walked down the steps of the police station and into the half-deserted street. The night wind listlessly flipped over the discarded cigarette packs in the gutter.
"Well, that didn't do much good," said Diana.
David Palmer shrugged. "You've got to admit it's difficult from his point of view," he said. "What could the Chief do? Maybe he was right. It could be a crank."
Diana shook her head.
"This makes me more determined than ever to go on with my investigation," she said. "There must be something in this Scorpia
"I'm coming to that," Diana said patiently. "You remember I told the audience I had traced the Scorpia band to within 50 years of the present time?"
Mulcade nodded and settled back in his big chair.
"Well, tonight, just an hour ago, a man stopped me while I was walking home and told me to forget all about the Scorpia."
Chief Mulcade looked incredulous.
"A seventeenth century pirate band?" he said. "You must be joking."
Diana shook her head.
"I've never been more serious, Chief," she said. "He threatened me in no uncertain terms. Told me to give up digging into Scorpia's history."
"It's perfectly true, Chief," David Palmer put in. "The man said he was giving her his first and last warning."
"He did?" said Mulcade. "That's serious. What did he look like?"
He took down notes as Diana gave him the description.
"He was driving a dark Cadillac," the girl concluded. "I couldn't get the license number. It was too dark and besides he had his lights switched off."
"Driving without lights too," said Mulcade gloomily. "The list of offenses is mounting up."
David Palmer grinned as he belched sparks and smoke from his pipe.
"That's exceeding the permitted pollution level too while we're at it," Mulcade grunted, indicating the pipe.
"You'll be arresting us next," said Diana, laughing.
They broke off as a burly patrolman came in with a tray containing plates of sandwiches, a coffee pot, cups and saucers. He was so absorbed in looking at Diana that he almost missed his footing as he put the tray down. The Chief poured. When his two guests had started on the coffee and sandwiches he picked up the phone again.
"I'll get this description sent up to Records," he said. "They may know something. I'll also run a check on Scorpia."
"I'd feel a lot better if you did," Diana told him, putting down her coffee cup.
"We can't have people threatened like this in Westchester," Mulcade growled, spitting instructions into the phone. He put the instrument back onto its cradle and downed more coffee.
"How's the movie business, Dave?" he asked.
David Palmer scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Sick, Jeremiah," he said, "but we scrape along."
The Chief nodded his head in sympathy.
"Yeah, guess you're right. Who's going out to see a bad movie when they can see a bad one right in their own home?"
His broad grin at David Palmer took the sting out of his words.
"All the same," the Chief mused. "It was a real occasion in the thirties when we stood in line for Gary Cooper and Shirley Temple. We won't see that again, unfortunately."
His nostalgic remarks were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. He picked it up briskly.
"Listening," he grunted. "Yeah, yeah. Got you. Well, keep at it."
He put the instrument down and sighed. He spread his hands wide on the blotter.
"We've got nothing in Records. No trace of anything called the Scorpia. We'll have to check with New York and Washington, of course, which will take time. And your blond man, Miss Palmer, doesn't match up with anyone known locally. We'll try and get some mug shots for you to look at. Apart from that, I'm sorry we can't be more helpful. Would you like me to put a watch on your house?"
David Palmer looked at Diana and then shook his head.
"I don't think that's necessary, Chief," he said. "But thanks just the same. We'd better be running along."
"If there's anything we can do, just give me a ring," Mul- cade said.
Diana and her uncle walked down the steps of the police station and into the half-deserted street. The night wind listlessly flipped over the discarded cigarette packs in the gutter.
"Well, that didn't do much good," said Diana.
David Palmer shrugged. "You've got to admit it's difficult from his point of view," he said. "What could the Chief do? Maybe he was right. It could be a crank."
Diana shook her head.
"This makes me more determined than ever to go on with my investigation," she said. "There must be something in this Scorpia
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