“I could have sworn that you bought one exactly like this,” Jennings said in a puzzled tone.
Stovebridge laughed.
“I wouldn’t advise you to put any money on it, Bob, because you’d lose,” he said lightly. “I’ll wear mine to-morrow, and you’ll see the difference.”
“Where did you find it, Dick?” Roger Clingwood asked.
Merriwell paused and glanced quietly around the circle of men. Most of them looked indifferent, as though they had very little interest in the cap or its unknown owner.
“It was picked up in the road about four miles this side of Wilton,” he said in a low, clear voice. “It lay near the body of a little girl who had been run over by some car and left there to die.”
There was a sudden, surprised hush, and then a perfect volley of questions were flung at the Yale man.
“Where was it?”
“Who was she?”
“Didn’t any one see it done?”