“If you are Jimmy Horr, who is Dippy? You’ve been calling him often enough. We want to find him.”
“D-Dippy—he—he’s my partner. He’s—he’s Dippy Quinn—he—” Again he stared, straight now at Phil. “Wh—who be you?”
Still staring, he fell back, trembling as if in pain, muttering:
“My head—my—he—head!” Then his eyes closed and he was off in another apparent swoon.
“Come on, Billy,” said Phil. “Let us be off! Are the things out of the car?”
“Most of them,” replied Dave. “I put ’em in the porch. Don’t be gone longer than you can help.”
In they jumped, Phil at the wheel, and the car purred softly down the old woods road towards the Ghost Tavern. Whether either of them knew their departure was observed by the Feeneys was not important, and gave them no concern. Both now felt that no time should be lost in finding out if the partner of Horr was yet in that vicinity. Despite the improbability, Phil could not help feeling that if those two had been doing wrong in the old inn, it might be that the survivor, as he probably deemed himself, might wish to pay a final visit there before taking his stealthy departure.
In fact, so mysterious was the whole series of adventures which the boys had gone through that almost anything might happen. In due time the Big Six drew up near the old tavern, and the boys cunningly hid the car behind a screen of shrubbery, where it would hardly be seen if any one should pass by. Still Phil, in view of what had happened to the car, made a suggestion.
“You stay here, Billy; at least until I call you or you see something is happening. If I find anyone or anything that’s dangerous, I’ll let you know.”
“Will you—sure?” queried Worth anxiously.