Part 8 (1/2)

”Why, no. Jess had it and slipped it under the seat while she was driving,” cried Roy. ”Why?”

”Because it's gone!” exclaimed Jimsy, somewhat blankly.

”Gone! Impossible!” protested Roy.

”But it is. I've searched the field thoroughly in the vicinity of the car, and I can't find a single trace of it.”

”It couldn't have been stolen.”

It was Peggy who spoke.

Roy thought a moment. All at once the recollection of Fanning Harding's queer actions when they had seen him on the road below them flashed into his mind. The road, as he had observed, led past the scene of the accident.

Would it have been possible for Fanning to enter the field while they lay unconscious there? After an instant's figuring Roy had to dismiss the idea. Had such been the case, the son of the banker would have been much further off when they observed him from the aeroplane than he had been.

The speed he was making would have carried him far from the wrecked auto had he been near it at the time the accident occurred.

What, then, could have become of the jewel case?

”It must be here,” exclaimed Roy, positively; ”n.o.body could have taken it.”

While Dr. Mays bent over Jess and examined her injured ankle the others searched the field in every reasonable direction. But not a trace of the jewel case could they find.

All at once, the noise of a horse's hoofs coming at a rapid trot was heard from the road. Roy, thinking it might be some one of whom he might make inquiries, hastened to the hedge and peered over. He saw, coming toward him, a disreputable-looking old ramshackle rig, driven by a red-haired man of big frame who was slouchily dressed. His chin had once been shaven, but now the hair stood out on it like bristles on an old tooth brush. By the side of this individual was seated none other than the immaculate Fanning Harding, in his motor-cycling clothes.

”Why, that's Gid Gibbons, the most disreputable character about here,”

exclaimed Roy, in amazement. ”What can Fan Harding be doing with him?”

He now noted, to his further astonishment and perplexity, that there was a third person in the rig--Gid Gibbon's daughter, a pretty girl in a coa.r.s.e way, and given to loud dressing. She had plenty of black hair and a pair of dark eyes that might have been beautiful if they had not had a certain hard, defiant look in them.

As they drew near Fan Harding turned and seemed to whisper something to the girl, whose name was Hester, at which they both laughed heartily.

CHAPTER VII.

PEGGY IS PUZZLED.

”h.e.l.lo, Gid,” hailed Roy, thinking that perhaps the ne'er-do-well, who conducted a small blacksmith shop some distance off, might be able to throw some light on the mystery.

”h.e.l.lo, yourself,” was the response in a harsh, gutteral voice as Gid drew in his reins and the conveyance came to a stop. Roy raised his hat to Hester Gibbons and nodded coldly to Fan Harding.

”Good gracious, what's been happening?” shrilled out the girl.

”An accident,” said Roy, and went on rapidly to explain what had occurred.

”And the worst of it is,” the boy went on, ”that besides the accident Miss Bancroft has suffered a serious loss. A wallet containing valuable jewelry has vanished entirely.” Roy watched Fan Harding closely as he spoke and thought that he saw him change color. It might have likewise been fancy, but he could have sworn that the girl, too, looked confused.

Gid puckered up his lips and emitted a whistle.

”Lost a wallet with jewelry in it, eh?” he repeated.

”Have you looked everywhere for it?” asked Fan Harding, with an appearance of great solicitude.