“How came you to think—” he began; but Sweetwater in his great anxiety interrupted him with a quick:
“Explanations will keep, Mr. Challoner. What of the man himself? Where is he? That’s the important thing now.”
“He was in his room till early this morning writing letters, but he is not there now. The door is unlocked and I went in. From appearances I fear the worst. That is why your presence relieves me so. Where do you think he is?”
“In his hangar in the woods. Where else would he go to—”
“I have thought of that. Shall we start out alone or take witnesses with us?”
“We will go alone. Does Oswald anticipate—”
“He is sure. But he lacks strength to move. He lies on my bed in there. Doris and her father are with him.”
“We will not wait a minute. How the storm holds off. I hope it will hold off for another hour.”
Mr. Challoner made no reply. He had spoken because he felt compelled to speak, but it had not been easy for him, nor could any trifles move him now.
The town was up by this time and, though they chose the least frequented streets, they had to suffer from some encounters. It was a good half hour before they found themselves in the forest and in sight of the hangar. One look that way, and Sweetwater turned to see what the effect was upon Mr. Challoner.