He stopped and glanced at Roy, who felt his face flushing angrily. There had been a queer intonation in Fan Harding’s tones.
“Unless what?” put in Jess, looking at Fan Harding directly in the eyes. His dropped under the scrutiny of the straightforward girl.
“I suppose you mean unless I took them,” struck in Roy, angrily. There was a hard note of defiance in his tones which sounded strange there.
Fan Harding glanced at him quickly and then said in a low voice:
“Well, it does look odd, you know, and––”
“Don’t dare to say another word like that!”
Peggy, her soft eyes blazing, stepped forward before Mrs. Bancroft could stop her. Gid Gibbon’s daughter watched the angry girl with a contemptuous smile. But Fan Harding went white and shrank back.
“I—I didn’t mean anything,” he stammered.
“Children! Children!” exclaimed Mrs. Bancroft, “no more of this. It seems that there is a mystery here, and perhaps some day it will be solved. But in the meantime I wish no suspicion, or doubt even, cast on any one.”
If they had been watching Fan Harding they would have seen his face brighten up at this. Muttering something in an undertone to Gid, he slunk off, accompanied by his disreputable blacksmith companion and the latter’s daughter, Hester, as she went, flung back a glance of contempt at the others, of which they took not the slightest notice.