In the meantime, speculation and wonder had ruled among the occupants of Roy's auto. Everything seemed very much muddled, but one fact stood out clearly, and that was that an attempt had been made to cast suspicion, if not the actual guilt of the robbery, upon Roy.
For what object?
"I have it," cried Peggy suddenly. "If they could have placed Roy under a cloud of suspicion, it would have worked to his discredit with the naval authorities, and might have resulted in our aeroplane being denied a place in the trials. That seems plain enough."
They all agreed that it did. But Jimsy said suddenly: "If that was the case, why didn't they try to make out that I stole it?"
"Because—forgive me Jimsy—you're not Roy. Without him, the tests of the Prescott aeroplane could hardly be conducted. Unless——"
"Unless a certain young person named Peggy Prescott undertook to take charge of them," cried Jess loyally.
"Don't be foolish, Jess," warned Peggy; "but look, here is Mrs. Galloway coming to speak to us."
The farmer's wife approached the automobile, from which none of the party had as yet alighted. She was followed by her husband. Both began apologizing profusely for the questions of the sheriff.
"But land's sakes alive," exclaimed the farmer's wife, "I declar ter goodness, we've bin so flustered thet I don' know no more than a wet hen. My brother, that's Mr. Mortlake, was dead sot on it bein' one of you folks, but I knew that was reediculous."
They hardly knew whether to be angry or to laugh at the woman's blunt frankness. But Roy struck in with a question: