"He said he was going to put a little paraffin in the ditches to destroy the mosquitoes' nests there are hereabouts," explained Muriel. "He said the farmer had ordered him to do it."
"Did you give him that order, Mr. Price?"
"Never in my life!" returned the farmer.
"Do they know where your paraffin barrel is in that shed? Would they be able to get to it; should you notice them if they were round about it, Mrs. Price? Have you noticed any of them there?"
"Really, Captain Holiday, I couldn't say," returned the farmer's wife, with concern. "I've got so used to them, I haven't thought very much about them—-"
"Ah! the fault of all of us!" declared Dick Holiday, with a sternness I had not before heard in his voice. "There's very little doubt in my mind what to think about them now!" He turned to the farmer again. "Don't let any of your men touch those heaps of shavings, Mr. Price, please. Leave everything just as it is, will you? The evidence will have to be looked to. No telephone on the farm, have you? I shall have to send over to the camp, then. I say, Fielding——"
Elizabeth's "Falconer," his golden hair rumpled and his delicate face very flushed turned, from where he was having a murmured talk with the Man-hater.
"Sorry to trouble you, but I'd like you to drive over in the dog-cart to the prison camp," said Dick Holiday. "I'll stay here till the commandant comes. My compliments to him (he's a Major Russell), and I'd be obliged if he'd let you bring him back here at once."
"Right," said Colonel Fielding, and was off.
In a worried murmur Mr. Price was saying: "Well, indeed, I wouldn't have believed it of our Germans! That sailor, you can't deny that he seemed a pleasant young fellow!"