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Read Ebook: Mystery of the Caribbean Pearls by Adams Andy
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Ebook has 1624 lines and 44208 words, and 33 pages
"It's for you this time, Biff," Ted said. Excitement shone on his young face. His eyes sparkled.
"I'll wager I can tell you who it's from," Mr. Brewster said, smiling.
"Uncle Charlie! Uncle Charlie!" Monica pealed, like a gay bell.
Biff ripped open the envelope. The room became silent.
Biff handed the cablegram to his father and looked at his mother.
"I must say my brother takes things pretty much for granted," Mrs. Brewster said, laughing.
"That's Charlie for you," Tom Brewster said. "When he goes into action, he moves fast."
"He surely does, Dad, whether it's against Chinese bandits or sending cablegrams," Biff agreed.
"One cable this morning. A second this afternoon. Well, I guess we'd better be making up our minds, Martha. What do you say?"
"Can we all go?" Ted wanted to know.
"Oh, yes, I'd love to go to the West Indies," Monica pleaded.
"I'm afraid it will be just Biff this time," their father said. "Providing, of course," he added hurriedly, "your mother approves. Well, Martha?"
Martha Brewster shrugged her shoulders and smiled. She was still torn. But she had great confidence in her son's ability to take care of himself. He had proved this time and time again. And Charles was her favorite brother, reckless though he was.
"All right, Biff darling. I might as well give in now as later. I know you and your father won't give me a moment's peace until I do."
Mrs. Brewster's statement was met with cheers led by Ted and Monica. Biff crossed the room and put an arm around his mother's shoulders. She pressed her head against her strong son's chest.
The conference in the Brewster home in Indianapolis, Indiana, came to an end.
Sunday morning at ten o'clock found the Brewster family at the Indianapolis airport. Flight 129, southbound for Miami, had already been called. The last hasty farewells were said, and ten minutes later the plane speeding Biff southward became a mere speck in the sky to his mother and father and the twins.
The plane zooming Biff to another adventure landed at the Miami airport in the late afternoon. Coming in over the city of fabulous hotels, America's playground, Biff could see the lingering rays of the setting sun slanting out over the bouncing waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
From Carib Airways, Biff learned that the flight which was to take him on to Cura?ao was not scheduled to depart until midnight. After a dinner of delicious stone crabs, Biff wandered up and down Lincoln Road, the famed shopping center in Miami Beach, gazing into the windows of the shops which lined the streets.
He left Lincoln Road and swung on to Collins Avenue. One hotel after another, each in turn seeming more luxurious than its predecessor, lined the east side of the avenue, between the street and the white, sandy beach.
The night air was warm and gentle in contrast to the cold, blustery March winds Biff had left behind him in Indianapolis.
Biff returned to the airport shortly after eleven, reclaimed his baggage, which he had checked, and waited for his flight to Cura?ao to be called.
The call came just ten minutes before midnight:
Biff joined the line which was moving slowly through Gate 9. He looked carefully about him, as he always did, spotting faces that he might run into again. He had learned in the past that it was wise to remember as much about one's fellow passengers as possible. No telling when such knowledge might come in handy. Besides, he found the faces of traveling people interesting. On many long rides, he had amused himself by trying to guess where they had come from, where they were going, and why.
The line shuffled slowly forward. Flight 296 was filled. There would be no seats for the hopeful standbys.
Biff had checked his heavier bag through earlier, when he had presented his ticket. Now he carried only a small, light dispatch case. Accidentally, as the person directly in front of him stopped suddenly, Biff's dispatch case swung forward, striking the person on the calf of one leg.
"Pardon me," Biff said.
The person turned around. Startled, Biff stopped quickly. He even backed up a step in his amazement.
"Am I seeing things?" Biff asked himself, giving his head a shake and blinking. "Am I asleep? It can't be. It just can't be."
The person Biff stared at returned his stare. The same astonishment spread over the face of the boy he had bumped.
Biff's own mirror at home couldn't have reflected his image better. He might have been looking at himself!
Neither boy spoke, so startled were they by their striking resemblance to one another.
"This can't be," Biff said, half aloud. "That boy is--is--ME!"
The other lad must have been thinking the same.
"Step forward, please," the gate attendant called out sharply. "Keep the line moving."
In their astonishment, Biff and his double had stopped in their tracks.
Dazedly, Biff and the other boy reached the gate. They presented their tickets. The attendant looked from one to the other.
"Twins?" he asked, a smile on his face.
Still apparently unable to speak, the boys shook their heads.
They walked across the apron leading to the waiting aircraft. As they walked along, side by side, each cast quick, questioning glances at one another.
It was unbelievable!
The boys were the same height. Both were broad of shoulder. Both carried their well-muscled bodies with the grace and posture of the trained athlete.
The only immediately noticeable difference distinguishing the boys was their clothing. Biff was hatless, as always. The other boy wore a hat. Biff wore light gray slacks, a soft sleeveless sweater, and a loose sports coat. His double wore a tight-fitting, dark-blue suit and a white, high-collared shirt. His clothes were as formal as Biff's were informal.
They mounted the loading ramp and entered the plane. The stewardess gave them the same interested, friendly look the gate attendant had given them.
"I'm sure you two will want to sit together," she said. "You're twins, aren't you?"
"No, ma'am," Biff gulped.
The stewardess seated the boys, disbelief showing in her eyes as they shifted from the face of one boy to the other. She started moving toward the door, but kept turning her head to cast a look at the boys.
Biff was seated next to the window. His seat companion arose, removed his hat, and placed it on the rack above. His hair was cropped short, as Biff's was. It was a shade darker, perhaps, but just a shade. Biff's habit of going hatless could have made the difference.
On close examination of the boys' faces, there was one noticeable difference. Biff's eyes were bluish-gray. The other boy's were a deep blue.
Biff turned in his seat to confront his companion.
"Since we look so much alike," Biff said, "maybe we'd better find out who we are. I'm Biff Brewster. So you can't be. I mean, if I am Biff Brewster--and I know I was until I saw you just now--then you must be someone else."
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