"Don't be foolish, Jess," warned Peggy; "but look, here is Mrs. Galloway
coming to speak to us."
The farmer's wife approached the automobile, from which none of the party
had as yet alighted. She was followed by her husband. Both began
apologizing profusely for the questions of the sheriff.
"But land's sakes alive," exclaimed the farmer's wife, "I declar ter
goodness, we've bin so flustered thet I don' know no more than a wet hen.
My brother, that's Mr. Mortlake, was dead sot on it bein' one of you
folks, but I knew that was reediculous."
They hardly knew whether to be angry or to laugh at the woman's blunt
frankness. But Roy struck in with a question:
"Wasn't Mr. Mortlake, accompanied by Harding, out here last night?"
"Why, yes," said the woman, with perfect candor. "They stayed quite a
while. Harding hed some business with Ike, an'----"
"An' Gene Mortlake said he'd like ter hev a look at yer aeroplane. Yer
know he's in thet thar business hisself," volunteered Ike confidentially.
Peggy felt as if she could have groaned aloud. Roy's fears, earlier
confided to her, seemed to have been based on a true presentiment. The
blue-jowled Mortlake had undoubtedly improved his opportunity to study the
_Golden Butterfly_ at close range. The farmer's next words confirmed her.
"Reckon he was powerful interested, too," the farmer went on, "fer he made
a lot uv ther nicest droorings you ever seen, an'--why, what's the
trouble?"
For Roy, hardly knowing what he intended to do, had jumped from the
machine and was sprinting toward the Harding car.
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