As she rounded a sharp corner and sped onto the upper deck, she saw a knot of people crowded near the rail. The Royal Tahoe’s captain was there, and someone else in a white uniform – a waiter, Laura realized, but not the one Fenton had pursued – along with several agitated passengers.

Fenton Hardy was nowhere in sight.

Laura pushed her way through the milling crowd, her murmurs of "Excuse me…pardon me…excuse me, please…Please, let me pass!" becoming more and more insistent. Finally she reached the railing and leaned over, scanning the blue waters intently.

Two men were in the water. One, dressed in the blue-trimmed white uniform of the wait staff, was hanging limply, evidently unconscious, in the grip of the second. Fenton Hardy, clad in gray slacks and a pale blue dress shirt, was stroking towards the Royal Tahoe, holding his quarry securely in a lifeguard’s grip.

Laura heaved a sigh of relief. Thank heavens!

It took the crew some time to get the two men back aboard the cruise ship, and the unconscious man was immediately put on a stretcher and whisked away to be examined by the ship’s doctor. Fenton was wrapped in a blanket and escorted there as well, with Laura trailing in his wake. The curious passengers were encouraged to disperse, and the ship resumed its progress across the lake.

"Darling, you’re sure you’re all right?" Laura hovered near her husband, and demanded reassurance for at least the third time. "That water’s so cold—"

"I’m – f-fine," Fenton assured her, through chattering teeth. "J-just – w-wet."

Laura, unconvinced, turned questioning eyes to Dr. Mayhall, a competent-looking woman in her late 30’s with long brown hair and friendly blue eyes, who smiled warmly at her.

"He’s not hurt in the least," the doctor said. "He’s wet and chilled, but other than that, there’s nothing wrong with him."

The door to the infirmary was opened abruptly, and Captain Lawson strode in. His expresssion was both cross and apprehensive, but it lightened when he beheld his foolhardy passenger looking none the worse for his dunking.

"Well, I’m glad to see you’re all right." Captain Lawson said. "But jumping into the lake was a bad idea, you realize? You could have—"

"Captain, if I hadn’t j-jumped into the lake, you’d probably have lost a c-crew member." Fenton defended himself, still shivering a little. "The man was unconscious when I reached him."

"I know, I know." Lawson grumbled. "And don’t think I don’t appreciate what you did – but I think you shortened my life expectancy with that stunt!"

"How is he?" Laura asked. "The young man, I mean."

"He’s still unconscious," Dr. Mayhall said. "but I expect him to recover."

Fenton shook his head in bemusement. I wonder what I could have learned from him, if he hadn’t jumped overboard…? He shivered again, and this time Captain Lawson took some notice of it.

"Sir, if you don’t mind wearing a ship’s uniform for a little while, we’ll get your clothes dried." the captain said. He popped his head out the door and issued a request to a passing crew member, then returned. "We’ll have a spare uniform here for you in just a few minutes."

"Th-thank you." Fenton said gratefully. Doctor Lawson patted his shoulder, murmured that she needed to attend to her other patient, and went into the adjoining room. Captain Lawson settled himself into one of the chairs and surveyed the Hardys thoughtfully.

"All right, let’s hear why all this happened." he invited.

"Well, I admit, I was chasing your crew member," Fenton began. "My name is Fenton Hardy, and I’m a private investigator from Bayport, New York. I’m not here in a professional capacity, though – I’m on vacation! This is my wife, Laura – the better half of the partnership." He grinned at Laura as he said this. "I got curious about the recurring illnesses aboard the Royal Tahoe, and I wanted to talk to that man. Before I could, though, he ran away. I ran after him." he concluded, simply.

Captain Lawson shook his head. "All this with people getting sick on here – it’s bad, really bad for business."

"Any ideas about what – or who – is causing it?" Fenton queried.

"No," Lawson replied somberly. "But I’m fairly sure it’s not confined just to the Royal Tahoe!"

"You mean, other cruise ships are having the same problem?" Laura asked.

"No, I didn’t mean that. But I believe there have been other occurrences on shore – food poisoning or whatever it is. My boss mentioned it the last time I talked to him."

Fenton mentally filed that little tidbit of information away for safekeeping. If this was happening on shore as well on the cruise ship, then it probably wasn’t a disgruntled employee vendetta. It could be anything – sabotage, terrorism…no, not terrorism. No one had been killed, or even made seriously ill. This was more the act of a sicko trying to make a point. Just what point he or she was trying to make, wasn’t clear!

The uniform arrived, and Captain Lawson returned to his duties. Fenton stripped off his wet clothes, and Laura handed them over to a steward, who promised to do his utmost to get them dry by the time the Royal Tahoe docked at Stateline. Fenton somewhat dubiously put on the white slacks and shirt with the logo on the pocket.

"These pants are a good two inches too short," he grumbled. "And too…wide!"

Laura couldn’t help giggling at the way he looked. "Better that than pneumonia, especially on your vacation, honey." she commented. "They must not have anyone your size on the crew."

"Well, since that guy still hasn’t come to, we might as well enjoy the rest of the cruise. Let’s go back to the dining salon." Fenton suggested. "I think I’ve had enough of the top deck for a while."

Things had calmed down aboard the Royal Tahoe. When the Hardys rejoined their fellow passengers in the dining salon, they found most of them enjoying the view from the windows. A few people glanced at Fenton and smiled at his appearance in the borrowed uniform, but no one said anything, aside from a few murmured "glad you’re okay" comments.

Laura and Fenton found a place beside one of the windows too, and gazed out at the serene blue lake. A few minutes later, they were joined by the Claremonts, Lisa and Randall.

"That was some excitement, no?" Randall’s eyes were big with excitement behind his glasses. "Why did you chase the guy into the lake, Hardy?"

"Uh – well, uh—" Fenton stammered just a bit, then decided to come clean. "I’m a private investigator. I got curious about these mysterious attacks of illness aboard the ship, and I wanted to talk to him."

"Any ideas about what’s causing them?" Randall wanted to know.

"Not yet," Fenton admitted. Then, making casual conversation, he turned the question back on Mr. Claremont. "Do you?"

"Oh yes!" Randall Claremont nodded decisively. "It might have been badly prepared food – you never can be sure, with these shipboard cooks! – and passengers with certain constitutions succumbed to it. Or maybe there’s a flu bug going around, and by coincidence, people with it happened to be on the Royal Tahoe at the same time. Of course, it might be mold, too – or perhaps some sort of bug that stung all these people!"

Fenton was biting his tongue, trying his best not to laugh at the earnest businessman’s wild conjectures. "Those are – interesting ideas." he managed to say.

"What do you think?" Lisa asked Laura quietly. The two women had been listening to their husbands’ conversation, and Lisa’s face wore a slightly amused ‘my husband, the idiot,’ expresssion, but she had turned away so that he couldn’t see it.

"I don’t know." Laura admitted, shaking her head. "It’s too random to see any connections yet, but so many occurrences on the same ship must mean it’s something fairly big."

The two couples ordered coffee from one of the waiters, and the conversation turned to more general topics. The Claremonts were leaving Stateline the next day, to travel to the north end of the lake for a few days’ stay, and were looking forward to seeing that part of the area.

Shortly before the end of the cruise, a crew member brought Fenton’s clothes, now dried and pressed, to him, and he retired to a restroom to change. When he reappeared, and handed back the borrowed uniform, Laura surveyed him critically, then smiled.

"You look much better in those clothes, darling." she commented wickedly, and he blushed.

When they approached the gangplank to the dock at Stateline, Fenton had a proposition for his wife. "Laura, I’d like to talk to some of the people onshore about this. What would you say to dropping by the police station?"

"I’d say that as your partner, I’m happy to go along with your ideas." she replied drolly. "Seriously, though, it’s a good idea. I’m fine with it."

Fenton halted at the top of the gangplank, for the waiter Miguel was there with several other crew members, assisting passenger to disembark from the ship. He drew him aside, and asked directions to the police station, hastily jotting down the information on some of the Royal Tahoe’s complimentary note paper.

Once back on shore, the Hardys set out along the beach, walking hand in hand. Working on solving a mystery they might be, but this was a vacation in Lake Tahoe, and no opportunity to enjoy themselves was to be missed.

After a time, Laura spoke. "Fenton…" Her voice was very quiet. "If I didn’t happen to mention it before – I’m awfully glad you weren’t hurt, jumping off the boat as you did." She slanted a look up at him. "However, you scared me half out of my wits, you know!"

"Honey, I’m sorry! It was just that I didn’t want to lose him…and then, after he jumped in, I saw that he was in trouble, and I didn’t even think…" Fenton’s voice trailed off weakly, for Laura was regarding him with a somewhat stony expresssion.

"Honey?" He tried again, this time stopping and turning her around to face him. "Laura, you know I wasn’t really risking anything; I know how to swim!"

"Lots of people drown that know how to swim." Her voice was muffled as he pulled her against him. "I thought – I was afraid…damn you, Fenton, do you have to give me heart attacks about your safety even on vacation?"

"Nope." Fenton’s lips silenced her. There were no more words said for several moments. After a while, they resumed their trek along the sandy beach; Fenton’s arm around her tightly, Laura’s head resting on her husband’s shoulder as they walked.

Eventually, they came up off the beach and found the street where the police station was located. Once more walking hand-in-hand, they approached the building. But as they neared it, a sudden CRACK! of gunfire split the evening’s calm.