here!” persisted the man.
Patricia forced herself to walk around to the other side of the car, and saw a strand of grey cloth twisted in the wheel, and stains on the body of her car. They were partly washed off by the rain, but enough remained to show that it was blood.
“That awful bump,” offered Anne incoherently.
“Didn’t feel big enough for a man,” objected Katharine.
“What shall I do?” cried Patricia, biting her lips to keep from crying.
“Better report it at the station, and get an officer to go back with you,” advised the man. “I’ll fix your lights; then you drive on one block and you’ll see the station.”
“Would you go up with us and tell your part of the story?” begged Patricia, feeling very much in need of male support in such an emergency.
“Sure,” was the hearty response. “I’ll walk up and be there as soon as you are.”
“Never mind, Pat,” said Katharine consolingly. “You’ve got to run over somebody sometime, and now it’s over.”
Patricia shivered.
The mechanic was as good as his word, and when the frightened girls entered the police station, he was leaning on the desk in earnest conversation with the officer on duty. The few questions which were put to Patricia and her friends were answered so promptly and frankly that they made a most favorable impression; and in twenty minutes, Patricia, was driving back to the woods with a pleasant young policeman sitting beside her. The mechanic and the coroner followed in a small truck.
“There is something!” cried Katharine, as they approached the scene of the jolting, and the headlights showed a dark bundle toward one side of the road. Patricia shuddered as she saw that it was the figure of a man. As soon as she had come to a stop, the policeman leaped out and bent over the prone figure. With the help of the coroner he rolled the body onto its back, and made a hasty examination while the white-faced, trembling girls watched from the car.
“You ran over him all right,” called the officer.
Patricia gave a frightened gasp and clutched the wheel tightly to save herself from succumbing to a wave of dizziness which swept over her.
“But,” he continued, “you didn’t kill him. Somebody evidently stabbed and left him here. His partner, no doubt. Probably took whatever he had on him, too.”
Patricia breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.
“I thought so,” continued the officer, as he hastily ran his fingers through the pockets of the dead man, and found nothing. “Cleaned out.”
“We’d better get him on the truck and take him to the morgue,” said the coroner. “Give us a hand, Jones,” to the mechanic. “Drive ahead a little, lady, and give us more room.”
Patricia moved on a few feet and discovered that there was not space enough in that particular spot to turn around; so she proceeded slowly until she came to a place where the trees were a little farther back from the road.
“Think you can make it?” inquired Jane, lowering the window to watch the tree trunks on her side of the car.
“By going off the road a bit; it looks fairly level here.”
It took some maneuvering to get the car headed in the opposite direction, and Patricia’s arms ached before the feat was finally accomplished. Suddenly she stopped the machine, opened the door, and jumped out.
“What on earth is the matter now?” called Jane, sliding over the driver’s seat and sticking her head out of the open door.
Patricia, who was stooping over something a few feet ahead, in the glare of the headlights, made no reply.
“Don’t tell me there’s another man!” wailed Anne, covering her face.
“No, no!” assured Katharine, patting Anne soothingly. “Nothing so big as that. What did you find, Pat?” as the girl ran back to her companions.
“Look!” she cried, stumbling into her seat, and holding up a glistening object.
“A watch!” exclaimed the girls in chorus.
“Yes, and it’s Mrs. Brock’s grandfather’s watch!” Her words fairly tumbled over one another in her excitement. “At least it answers to the description given in the papers.”
“Oh, Pat, you lucky girl!” ejaculated Jane, hugging her.
“It was right under the headlights. The man’s pal must have dropped it!”
“Heavens! Maybe he’s still around here!” shuddered Anne, as a dire thought occurred to her.
“Never thought of that!” admitted Patricia, starting the car again.
“Never fear!” asserted Katharine. “A criminal may return to the scene of his crime, but he never stays there.”
“Better go back and tell the men, Pat,” advised Jane sensibly.
In a minute or two the girls were tumbling out of the car, all talking at once to the officer who was standing in the road waiting for them to return. The body had been placed in the truck, and the coroner and Jones were ready to start off.
“One at a time!” pleaded Policeman Tyne, covering his ears with his big hands.
The other three girls stopped immediately, and allowed Patricia to tell the story without interruption.
“Must have lost this when he dodged into the woods,” remarked the coroner, who, with Jones, had left the truck and rejoined the group.
“Suppose perhaps he’s keeping under cover not too far from here,” said the officer.
“Going in the woods to look for him?” inquired the coroner.
“Not the least use in the world,” offered Jones promptly. “You’d never find your way around in there at night. It’s bad enough in the daytime. I got lost in there once. You’d just be a target for him, officer,” he added, as Tyne hesitated.
“He’s probably miles away by now, anyhow. We have no means of knowing when the crime was committed. We’ll go back, I guess, and I’ll make my report; then all surrounding towns and roads will be watched. Ready, girls?”
“Congratulations, Pat!” said Anne, generously, as they started off. “I’m awfully glad that you’ll get the reward.”
“I don’t know—” began Patricia doubtfully, watching the road closely.
“You will,” said the policeman. “You found it. Of course it will be held up for a while until after the investigation, but then you can claim it. Maybe there’ll be a reward for that fellow, too,” nodding toward the truck. “I’m pretty sure he’s Crack Mayne.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Patricia. “He’s—” then stopped abruptly.
“He’s
