"Very well," Morris agreed, although he
sounded a bit annoyed.
After hanging up, Tom phoned Bud and asked him to keep the appointment.
Bud was only too happy to oblige, jumping at the chance to take Sandy
out to lunch beforehand.
At one o'clock the husky young pilot and his date strolled into the
yacht club lounge. Lester Morris was nowhere in sight, so they sat down
to wait. Twenty minutes later the musician still had not appeared.
"I hope he hasn't forgotten," Sandy said, glancing at her wrist watch.
"If he's a square-dance caller, his memory ought to be extra good," Bud
joked. "Fine thing if he can't even remember the time of day!"
After waiting a while longer, Bud decided to telephone Morris's home.
But at that moment a thin, seedy-looking man came into the lounge. His
close-set eyes and loudly striped suit combined to give him a somewhat
disreputable appearance.
"Good grief! Len Unger!" Sandy whispered. "What does he want with us?"
Unger was walking straight toward them. Both Bud and Sandy had met him
occasionally around town and found him obnoxious.
"Sorry, but Morris got tied up," Unger informed them. "He sent me to
talk to you."
Sandy's blue eyes met Bud's in a flicker of distaste, but she tried to
conceal her feelings. "Please sit down," she invited Unger politely.
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