The girl winced. “Please don't,” she begged. “I haven't done anything wicked, honestly! But I want to get away so that they can't question me. I was in the car when they killed him; but I had nothing to do with it. It is just because of my father that I don't want them to find me. It would break his heart.”
As the three stood back of the Squibbs' summer kitchen Fate, in the guise of a rural free delivery carrier and a Ford, passed by the front gate. A mile beyond he stopped at the Case mail box where Jeb and his son Willie were, as usual, waiting his coming, for the rural free delivery man often carries more news than is contained in his mail sacks.
“Mornin' Jeb,” he called, as he swerved his light car from the road and drew up in front of the Case gate.
“Mornin', Jim!” returned Mr. Case. “Nice rain we had last night. What's the news?”
“Plenty! Plenty!” exclaimed the carrier. “Lived here nigh onto forty year, man an' boy, an' never seen such work before in all my life.”
“How's that?” questioned the farmer, scenting something interesting.
“Ol' man Baggs's murdered last night,” announced the carrier, watching eagerly for the effect of his announcement.
“Gosh!” gasped Willie Case. “Was he shot?” It was almost a scream.
“I dunno,” replied Jim. “He's up to the horspital now, an' the doc says he haint one chance in a thousand.”
“Gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Case.