“Now,” continued Linda, after her aunt had seen to the boy’s wants, “there really isn’t a whole lot to do. I’m sure we’ll get a phone call from Amy’s parents to-day, for they’ll be crazy to get her back, and must be watching the papers. The only ‘detective’ part of the story is to find that man. After all, it probably was only an accident, but still, he ought to be punished.”
“What did he look like?”
“Well, you see we were up in the air, and couldn’t get a very good look at him. But he wore no hat, and he had an immense amount of gray hair—and, I think, whiskers. I know it seems funny that a man his age should be driving so fast.”
“What kind of car was it?” demanded the reporter.
“Gray—and open. But I couldn’t tell you the make, or anything more in description. It all happened so quickly, and it shot away before we could really see it.”
“You didn’t even get the state or the license number?”
“No, of course not.”
Mr. O’Malley sighed.
“Looks pretty hopeless. But do you mind if I stick around here to-day till Miss Amy’s parents show up? I’d like to be on tap with that much of the story.”
“We’ll be glad to have you,” replied Miss Carlton, hospitably. “Stay until to-morrow if you like, Mr. O’Malley, as our guest.”