“Now look out, Miss Jessie,” he advised. “We are coming to the old Gandy stock farm. That’s the roof of the house just ahead. Yonder is the tower they built to house the electric lighting plant like what your father used to have. See it?”
“Yes, yes!” exclaimed Jessie. “But—but I don’t see any aerials. No, I don’t! And the red barn––”
“There it is!” cried Amy, grabbing at her chum’s arm. “With the silo at the end.”
The car turned a corner in the road and the entrance gate to the estate came into view. Up the well kept lane, beyond the rambling house of weathered shingles, stood a long, low barn and a silo, both of a dull red color. And on either side of the entrance gate were two broken willow trees, their tall tops partly removed, but most of the trunks still lying upon the ground where they had fallen.
“Ha!” ejaculated the chauffeur. “Those trees broke down since I was past here last.”
“Do drive slower, Chapman,” Jessie cried.
But she drew Amy down when the girl stood up to stare at the barn and the tower.
“There may be somebody on watch,” Jessie hissed. “They will suspect us. And if it is either of those women, they will recognize you.”
“Cat’s foot!” ejaculated Amy. “I don’t see any signs of occupancy about the house. Nor is 154 there anybody working around the place. It looks abandoned.”
“We don’t know. If the poor girl is shut up here––”