“What sort of looking men were they, my son?”
“The two who supported him were tall, well-built fellows. The sick man was quite stout and wore a dark suit. I should say that he was an American; he was quite fair.” Although this description was not very complete, the Flying Buddies exchanged glances.
“Wonder if it was Ollie?” Bob ventured.
“And who is this Ollie?” the Don asked with interest.
“He’s—I don’t know much about what he is, really, but we saw him the first time in Don Haurea’s home a year ago, and today he was at the table nearest to ours on the other side of the hedge,” Bob replied, then proceeded with an account of the affair to which the gentlemen listened attentively.
“And you are guessing that this so-called sick man may be this one to whom you listened?”
“It popped into my head, sir. I just thought that if his companion at the table wanted to get information from him, he might have arranged to take him off the grounds in some way,” Bob answered.
“They must have worked fast,” Jim added.
“Those fellows aren’t exactly slow motion movers,” said Bob.
“No, they are not.”