“You speak the truth,” said Bill Warner, who was rather stout. “Let’s walk a little slower; the ghosts will wait.”
“Yes; this blanket of mine is getting unwieldy.”
“Let’s take our coats off,” suggested Dick. “We’re not likely to meet any one between here and the tea-house at this time of night.”
They followed his suggestion, and walked along in silence for awhile, with their hats in their hands and their jackets across their arms. Then Pierce Ellison said:
“Too bad we didn’t come in your tea-pot, Hadley.”
“Too much noise,” replied John. “I don’t know what all of your opinions are about this mystery, but it’s mine that it’s a human agency. Have any of you fellows anything in the back of your heads that you haven’t spoken of—for fear of alarming the girls, or any other reason? It might give us a clue, you know. Something to work on.”
“Not a glimmer,” answered someone.
“I agree with Hadley,” said Jack. “What was the cause of those three deaths in close succession in the Scott family? Pure coincidence. Then there’s the stories of the horse and the stray dog. They may be coincidence, too; yet, I confess it seems funny that they happened as they did. But this business of Anna is different. I, for one, believe that something actually happened to the girl; but I can’t guess what. She’s too muddled herself to know much about it.”
“So do I,” agreed John. “I believe her; I had a talk with Anna. Her eyes looked right when she told me about it. And she showed me great black and blue marks on her arms, that could only have been made by strong hands—human hands! I believe her.”
“Yes; but Marjorie has an idea that she was galavanting around somewheres.”