Her voice trailed off. She had noticed Susan and Penny.
Slowly her eyes swept over the dismantled car, then they roved to her father with an expression which was akin to panic.
"What was it you wanted, Betty?" he asked.
"It doesn't matter now," she stammered. She added tensely: "Father, you're not making out a report!"
"Certainly, I am."
"Don't do it," the girl pleaded, gripping his arm. "You know what it may mean. Please, for my sake!"
Penny and Susan exchanged a quick glance. They were at a loss to understand the girl's strange attitude. Why should she be so troubled because her father was writing out a routine report of a theft?
To their relief, the policeman laughed carelessly and went on making out the report.
"You're hysterical, Betty," he accused. "Come, get a grip upon yourself."
"I'm sorry," the girl murmured, glancing nervously at Penny and Susan. "I shouldn't have made such a request."