CHAPTER XXV
THE MYSTERY DEEPENS
But all other considerations were as nothing beside the mystery of Jerry's manner and appearance, and his sudden flight filled me with the gravest fears. What had he done at Briar Hills, what horrible thing? Could it be that the boy had—? I shrank in dismay from the terrible thought that came into my mind. I went hurriedly into the house and without ceremony waked the sleeping Jack. He aroused himself with difficulty but when I told him what had happened he came quickly to life.
"You—you're sure you're not mistaken?" he asked, still bewildered.
"Haven't I told you that I saw the boy with my own eyes, that something dreadful has happened today at Briar Hills and that he's flying from the results of it? Come, Jack. We must go there at once."
"By all means," he said, springing up with an air of decision. "My car," and then as we started for the garage, "you don't mean to say that you believe the boy has—?"
The terrible words would not come. The mere thought of mentioning them frightened him as they had done me.
"How can I tell?" I said irritably.
"God knows," he muttered miserably. "Violence—but not—not that."
"Hurry," I muttered. "Hurry."