“Where?” snapped Amy.
“Perhaps in the house.”
“Perhaps in the barn,” scoffed her chum. “Anyway, every window of that tower, both the lower and the upper stories, is shuttered on the outside.”
“Maybe that is where Bertha is confined—if it is Bertha.”
“But, honey! Where is the radio? There is nothing but a telephone wire in sight. There is no wireless plant here.”
“Dear me, Amy! don’t you suppose we have come to the right place?”
The car was now getting away from the Gandy premises. Jessie had to confess that there was no suspicious looking wiring anywhere about the house or outbuildings.
“It does not seem as though that could be the place after all. What do you think, Chapman?” she added, leaning forward again. “Don’t you think that place looked deserted?”
“It often does between racing seasons, Miss Jessie,” the man said. “Whoever owns it now does not occupy it all the year.”
Suddenly Jessie sat up very straight and her 155 face flamed again with excitement. She cried aloud: