Part 14 (1/2)
”Yes, and thank you. I hope you'll have no more accidents.”
”So do I,” Baylor Weston returned with a grimace, ”but very likely I shall, unless I get a chauffeur. Hm, that's an idea! I'll make a note of it!”
He reached for a pad, and to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the girls, scribbled down the memorandum.
”By the way,” he remarked, ”did you hear how much Raybolt lost in the fire?”
”I don't believe the loss has been estimated,” Nancy replied. ”Mrs. Raybolt visited the ruins today. She was quite overcome.”
”The Raybolts always did hate to lose a penny,” the manufacturer grunted.
”It wasn't that,” Nancy told him. ”Mrs. Raybolt declares her husband was in the house at the time of the fire. She believes he was burned to death.”
Baylor Weston shook his head doubtfully. ”Can't make me believe that Felix Raybolt was caught in that fire. He's too foxy for that! If he has disappeared, you may wager it was for a purpose.”
”Mrs. Raybolt's grief seemed to be genuine,” Nancy commented.
”No doubt. Raybolt wasn't the fellow to confide in his wife about anything. He kept his own council.”
”You knew him well.”
”At one time. We broke off business relations years ago. Raybolt was too tricky-mean and unfair in all his dealings. He'd steal ideas without a qualm.”
”So I've heard,” Nancy returned dryly. ”By the way,” she asked, ”do you have a man by the name of Joe Swenson working for you?”
Mr. Weston thought for a moment, then said, ”The name is not familiar to me, but I'll inquire of our personnel office.” He called the manager. After a few moments' pause, the answer came back-no.
Nancy was disappointed. She thanked Mr. Weston and the three girls arose. They left the factory and walked to the car.
”Let's take the longer route back to River Heights rather than the Sunview Mountain road,” Bess pleaded, and Nancy consented.
As she reached the Weston plant's main gate at the highway, the girls saw that traffic had become heavy.
”Everyone must be coming to town for the carnival,” George observed. ”I saw the posters advertising it when we drove through Stanford. There's to be some sort of parade, too.”
The steady stream of vehicles held the convertible at the entrance of the factory grounds. While the girls were impatiently waiting for a break in the line, the plant whistle blew.
”Now there will be a jam!” Nancy exclaimed.
A moment later she finally managed to turn into the highway, but the cars in front of her moved slowly. Again Nancy was forced to halt.
The blowing of the whistle had released hundreds of workmen. They came pouring from the plant. While she waited for the car ahead to move, Nancy watched the men with interest.
Suddenly a vaguely familiar figure caught her eye. At first Nancy thought she must be mistaken, but as the man turned his face toward her, she knew her first impression had been correct.
”Look!” Nancy cried excitedly. ”There's the man I saw running away from the fire! He's Joe Swenson!”
CHAPTER XI.