“If I can only solve this one of Jockey Hollow I’ll go in for mystery solving as a profession,” Arden laughed. “I might major in it at Cedar Ridge.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Dot, “now that Harry Pangborn is here, he can help you.”
Arden looked at the visitor. Was there anything sarcastic in the remark? Hardly, for Dot smiled brightly.
“I still can’t guess why he has come here,” said Terry.
“You shall know very soon, child,” mocked Sim. “Now we must get busy and wash our faces. And, oh, I wonder what sort of a dinner Moselle can give us? I must have a talk with her. Run along, girls, get painted and powdered, and I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
Shortly after this, Harry Pangborn drove up to the Westover home in a “small but expensive car,” as Dot remarked, catching a glimpse of its gleaming lamps out on the drive. The young man came in, bronzed as to complexion, smiling charmingly, and showing his white even teeth, and greeted the girls with the comradeship of a co-ed.
“So glad to see you again,” he told them. “And now, as I heard Sim say she wondered why I was here, I’ll tell you. I’m here in this particular place because I am lonesome for such company as yours.” (That was being gallant.) “And I’m in Pentville because I have a mission to perform in Jockey Hollow.”
“Jockey Hollow!” cried the four girls together.
“Do you mean you are going to try to rid Sycamore Hall of its ghosts?” asked Arden a moment later.
“Ghosts!” exclaimed young Mr. Pangborn. “I don’t know anything about ghosts and less about Sycamore Hall. What’s the joke?”