The boys said they were going to take the Torpedo out for a little good fresh air. Mr. Creek said, “Sure! She’s your car, so far as I can see, though you are out some on the trade you made.” This with a friendly smile.
“We’ll just drive back when Willie has had time to get away and we will look his place over. Not that I think we will find anything, but—” Billy paused.
“Dandy good scheme,” Paul assented. “That boy of his—we don’t need mind him at all.”
“Better not go far. Let’s just wait at the hotel,” Worth suggested. They halted the Torpedo in front of the American House accordingly.
From their favorite chairs at the large, screened windows the two lads watched the occasional passerby, also the clock.
“He’ll be miles away by this time. We better hike over to the garage,” proposed Paul when half an hour had passed.
“Well, sir!” exclaimed Billy, at the same moment. “There’s Mr. Peek. Let’s say how do you do!”
Even as he was speaking, Worth hastened out to the sidewalk. The old gentleman, the tragic story of whose life was written in his stooping figure and melancholy face, recognized the boy at once. He was pleased to be so cordially greeted.
“It’s the first time I’ve been to town for ’most a year,” said he, as he also shook hands with Paul. “I don’t seem to know any of the young folks, any more, and not many of the older ones I meet.”
As Mr. Peek said he was just starting for home and that he was on foot, Billy spoke up: “Our car’s right here. We will take you home, Mr. Peek.”