“Lost a wallet with jewelry in it, eh?” he repeated.
“Have you looked everywhere for it?” asked Fan Harding, with an appearance of great solicitude.
“Everywhere we can think of,” rejoined Roy. He turned to Jimsy, who had just joined him. Jimsy looked despondent and worried. A glance at his countenance convinced Roy that the jewel case was still missing.
“I’ll get out and help you look for it myself,” said Fan Harding suddenly. “It’s awfully queer. Miss Bancroft remarked when she left the bank that she would take particular care of the jewels.”
“I wonder if any one passed on this road while we were unconscious?” queried Roy, looking narrowly at Fan.
To his surprise, the other answered with a great show of frankness.
“It’s very odd,” he exclaimed, “but I myself must have gone by this place not more than a few moments after the smash-up. I was on my way to Gid Gibbons’s blacksmith shop to get a part of my motor-cycle fixed up. I guess if I hadn’t been bending over my brakes as I rode down hill I’d have seen the place myself.”
“Guess so,” struck in Gid, with a grin; “no one never accused you of being blind.”
“My motor-cycle was in worse repair than I thought,” went on Fan, “and so I left it at Gid’s place and accepted his offer to ride into town with him.”
This all sounded plausible enough. Yet Roy noted that Fan had not mentioned his little excursion into the wood with the pistol. What was he trying to conceal? What had been his mission there?