Ignoring his facetiousness, Dora continued, “Etta told us that her father lost a fortune four years ago. He evidently had inherited it. He couldn’t have made it himself, because, when it was lost, he was simply helpless. He didn’t know how to work and earn more. That implies that he belonged to a rich family, doesn’t it?”
“Possibly. In fact probably,” Dick agreed, looking with mock solemnity through his shell-rimmed glasses at the interested, olive-tinted face of his companion. “Is all this leading somewhere? Do you think that there may be rich relatives who ought to be notified of the Dooleys’ plight?”
Dora laughed as she acknowledged that she hadn’t thought that far. “Aren’t you afraid we’ll get sort of mixed up if we try to solve two mysteries at once?” Dick continued. “You know we’re already hot on the trail of a clue that will unravel the Lucky Loon—Little Bodil mystery.”
Dora turned brightly toward him. “Dick Farley,” she announced, as one who had made an important discovery, “here is something! Little Bodil is described as having had deep blue eyes and cornsilk yellow hair.”
“Sure thing, what of it? Etta’s hair is dark brown.”
“I’m talking about that Baby Bess, silly!” Dora told him. “Surely you noticed that she had—”
“Hair and eyes? Sure thing!” Dick finished her sentence jokingly, “but, according to my rather limited observation of the infant terrible, it usually starts life with blue eyes and yellow hair. Now are you going to tell me that this baby and Little Bodil have another similarity?”
Dora had turned and was looking out over the desert valley, which, for the past half hour, they had been crossing. Dick thought she was offended by his good-natured raillery, but, if she had been, she thought better of it and replied, “I had not noticed any other similarity.”
“Well, neither had I,” Dick, wishing to mollify her, confessed, “except that both of their names start with B.”
The small car had turned on the cross road which led toward Gleeson. As they neared the high cliff-like gate which was the entrance to the box-shaped sandy front yard of Mr. Pedergen’s rock house and tomb, Dick leaned forward and called, “Hi there, Jerry! Dora suggests that we stop and visit Lucky Loon’s estate. We aren’t in any particular hurry, are we?”