“Suppose we hadn’t taken him!” said Jane in horror. “We’d be dead now.”
“Let’s go ask the attendant about buses,” suggested Mary Louise, still stroking her dog’s head.
“We better not!” cautioned Jane. “He may suspect us, if Harry Grant told him about his loss of the satchel.”
“Oh no, he won’t,” replied Mary Louise. “Because we’ll tell him about the tramp, or the bandit, or whatever he is—and he’ll suspect him.”
They walked confidently up to the man inside the station.
“We’re sort of lost,” announced Mary Louise. “We want to get to Riverside. There was a tramp back there about fifty yards who tried to make trouble for us. Can we stay here until a bus comes along—they do run along here, don’t they?”
“Yes, certainly,” replied the man, answering both questions at once. “About fifty yards back, you say? Did he have a brown satchel with him?”
“I saw a brown satchel lying in the road,” replied Mary Louise innocently. “Why?”
“Because a motorist stopped there a few minutes ago with engine trouble, and while he came to me for help his grip was stolen.”
“Did it have anything valuable in it?” inquired Jane, trying to keep her tone casual.