"Well," asked the Watermelon, "what are the sleuths doing?"
"Where are the cars, Alphonse?" asked the general sternly, in the reaction of the suspense of the moment before.
"I left them at the back door," answered Alphonse, as one who understood perfectly the whole aspect of the case and realized that sometimes a quiet exit is more to be desired than great acclaim. "I thought you would not want them seen from the front."
"I have no objection to my car being seen by everybody," returned the general with a wave of his hand, which appeared to include the universe.
The back door was locked and the key gone, and the Watermelon had hurried to the door into the sheds and was struggling with the rusty lock. "This is the way," said he, "through the woodshed. That door's locked and there ain't a key; family probably left that way. I noticed the woodshed route this morning."
"We can shut this door on the side porch and lock it just as we found it," said Henrietta.
She shut the door and Alphonse as quietly turned the key. She lowered the window the Watermelon had opened and, finding that he had broken the lock in doing it, she slipped a dollar from her purse and left it on the ledge. It seemed to Henrietta to leave more, to pay for their night's lodging, would simply be adding insult to injury. One can not take unpardonable liberties with another's possessions and then pay for it in the gold of the land.
"Come," said she.
The Watermelon had already opened the door and was working on the lock of the one in the woodshed. Henrietta paused in the house door, the basket on her arm, and glanced back at the others. "Come on," said she.
"I will explain," began the general, with a firmness that was fast weakening.