“Edith Phelps. Of course it is she. She arrived here on the trans-continental train on time. Tommy, she was in correspondence with somebody here in Yucca. Helen and I saw the envelope. And it puzzled us. Her being on the train puzzled me more. And now——”
“Oh, Jiminy!” ejaculated Tom Cameron. “The mystery deepens. Rival picture company, maybe, Ruth. How about it?”
“I don’t think it’s that,” said Ruth Fielding, reflectively. “I am sure Edie Phelps has no connection with movie people—no, indeed!”
CHAPTER VIII—MIN
“Well, let’s go along and see Flapjack’s daughter,” Tom proposed. “I don’t want to make the acquaintance of any strange girl without somebody to defend me,” and he grinned at the girl of the Red Mill.
“Oh, yes. We know just how desperately timid you are, Tommy-boy,” she told him, smiling. “I will be your shield and buckler. Lead on.”
The house had a yellow front, but was elsewhere left bare of paint. It stood away from its neighbors and, as Ruth and Tom Cameron approached it, it seemed deserted. From other houses they were frankly watched by slatternly women and several idle men.
Tom rapped gently at the front door. There was no reply and after repeating the summons several times Ruth suggested that they try a rear entrance.
“Huh!” complained the boy. “This Min they tell of must be deaf.”
“Or bashful. Perhaps she is nothing but a child and is afraid of us.”