"Owner of the Evergreen," went on Joe, with a thump on the table to drive the fact home.
"It's been stolen!" declared Mr. Kingley excitedly. "My car has been stolen! I don't know a thing about this! I don't even believe it!" he exclaimed shrilly.
"When I got the information from the police," Joe told him slowly, "I telephoned to your house to learn if your car was there."
"And it was!" insisted Mr. Kingley, leaning forward in his big chair. "Of course it was!"
"It was not!" Mr. Kingley sank back with a groan. "And your chauffeur was found in the garage, tied and gagged!"
"Bless me!" In the face of such facts Mr. Kingley could only stammer and sputter. "Who could—who could—who found him?" he demanded sharply.
"Your daughter telephoned to the garage for the car, and when it wasn't brought around, she went herself to see what was the matter. She found the chauffeur on the floor tied and gagged."
"But what did he say? What did he say?" Mr. Kingley had jumped up from his big chair and was tramping up and down the office with quick excited steps.
"He said he had the car all ready to drive out, when two men came in and threatened him with a gun. They gagged him, tied him up and drove the car out of the garage. He didn't know either of them, he said. Never saw them before. They were both masked, but he thought one of them, at least, was a Jap." He stopped and looked at Mr. Kingley significantly.
"A Jap!" repeated Mr. Kingley aghast. He stared at Joe, and he tried with all of his might to understand what Joe so plainly wanted him to understand. "I never employed a Jap in my life," he said hurriedly. "Not in any capacity!"