“Yes and no,” answered Lawton, scrambling up the steps to greet Miss Gregg and his host. “I met Osmun Creede’s chauffeur as I was starting out on a call. I asked him how Clive is. He said he didn’t know and that Clive must be at Rackrent Farm, for he isn’t at Canobie. I got to thinking. And I’m going to take a run over there. He’s sick. He isn’t fit to be staying all alone or just with his two old negroes at that gas-reeking house. If he won’t go to Canobie and if he won’t come back here I’m going to kidnap him and make him come home with me till he’s more on his feet again.”
“Good old Samaritan!” applauded Vail.
“But that isn’t why I stopped here on my way,” pursued Lawton. “I’ve been thinking. You told me Clive brought that German army knife home to you. I’m wondering if he happened to bring home several of them as presents, or if that was the only one. If there are more than one it may throw a light on this muddle to find out who has the other or the others. If there are several and they’re all alike, it may not have been yours that killed Chase.”
“I see,” answered Vail, adding: “No, he didn’t tell me whether that was the only one or not.”
“Well, is there any mark on yours by which you can be sure one of the other knives didn’t kill Chase—if there are any other knives like it?”
“No. I can’t help you out even that far. I’m sorry. By the way, if you don’t mind, Doctor, I’ll go across to Rackrent Farm with you. All morning I’ve been feeling remorseful about letting the poor chap leave here. He’s so sensitive he’ll be brooding over the way he bungled in trying to help me. I’ll go over and see if I can’t make him feel better about it. Perhaps I can make him come back. It’s worth a try anyhow.”
“Come along!” approved the doctor. “Plenty of room. Hop in.”
“I think,” suddenly decided Miss Gregg, “I think I’ll do some hopping, too. I went over the boy roughshod. I was cross and tired. I’ll tell him I’m sorry. Besides, there may be a bit of breeze in driving. There’s none here.”
As Vail helped her into the tonneau Macduff leaped lightly from the veranda steps to the rear seat of the car beside her. The collie, like many of his breed, was crazily fond of motoring and never voluntarily missed a chance for a ride. Vail got into the front seat beside Lawton and the car rattled on its way.
Rackrent Farm lay less than a mile from Vailholme’s farther gate. As the car turned into the farmhouse’s great neglected front yard and stopped there was no sign of life in or about the unkempt house as it baked in the merciless sunshine. Neither of the old negro servants appeared. Clive did not come to door or window in response to the unwonted arrival of visitors at his hermitage. An almost ominous stillness and vacancy seemed to brood over the whole place.