"What I want to know," Fred said sternly, ignoring this last remark, "is this: How came the explosions?"
Ward beckoned toward the barn door.
"Come up to the clubroom and I'll tell you," he whispered mysteriously.
Back in the clubroom, the members of the Riddle Club gathered around Ward. He was still carrying the smoking remains of the fireworks and now he put them down on the table and looked at them regretfully.
"They were the best Roman candles you ever saw," he mourned. "Better than last year, a heap. And pinwheels and snakes——"
Margy gave a squeak of anguish. "Snakes" were her pet diversion on the Fourth and she had expressly stipulated that they be included in Ward's purchases.
"But how did they blow up? What happened?" urged Fred.
"Those fireworks," Ward said solemnly, "were blown up!"
The others stared at him. Polly was the first to speak.
"You mean," she almost whispered, "you mean—some one deliberately blew them up?"