Bob Stevens took the paper and, holding the lantern in the crook of his left arm, studied the bit of paper on his way downstairs, but made nothing out of it.
"I am not certain that it means anything at all, Miss Thurston," he said. "Perhaps the girls may discover some meaning. As for myself, I give it up."
"Thank you," answered Barbara. "I will show it to them. I know it must mean something, unless—unless the original Mr. Presby were crazy in fact."
"I am beginning to think we are all crazy," laughed Stevens.
After having again inquired for Mollie, and shaken hands with Barbara and Ruth, Bob went home. Barbara had stuffed the slip of paper into the pocket of her blouse on her way to Mollie's room. Mollie now lay wide awake. Her face was pale. There was a livid mark on her forehead, where she had come violently in contact with the chimney side on her tumble into the hole in the gable floor.
"Oh, Mollie, dear," soothed Bab, throwing her arms about her sister. "It had to be you who got the worst of the bump. Were you leaning against the wall, too?"
Mollie nodded weakly.
"What happened?" she asked.
Barbara explained as well as she could from the brief description of the panel mechanism that Mr. Stevens had given to her, to which Mollie listened wide-eyed.
"You dear 'Automobile Girls,'" cried Ruth. "Will you never stop picking up horseshoe nails with all four tires?"