"Whom do you mean by they?" asked Roy.
"As if you didn't know. Is there any doubt in your mind that that fellow Cassell is at the bottom of all this?"
"Not very much, I'll admit," replied Roy; "I wonder if that accounts for the inactivity of the police."
"In just what way?"
"Well, the fellow's a local politician and has a lot of 'pull'."
"He must have, to get away with anything like this," was Jimsy's indignant outburst.
"Well, don't let us waste time speculating," put in Peggy, in her brisk manner; "the thing to do now is to get back the Golden Butterfly."
"You're right, Peg," came from both boys.
By this time they were out of the car, which they left standing at the roadside while they examined the vicinity for tracks. But the grass in the field was fairly long and no traces remained. Yet, inasmuch as the tracks of the Butterfly ended at the gap in the hedge, it was manifest that that was the point at which it had been wheeled off the road.
"What next?" asked Jimsy, as it became certain that there was little use in searching for a trail in the meadow.