“Poole, Martha Poole, is her name.”
“Oh!” cried Amy, seeing now what Jessie wanted.
But Jessie shook her head at her chum warningly, and asked the man:
“Do you know if Mrs. Poole is at the place now?”
“Couldn’t say. She comes and goes. She is always there when the racing is going on. It is supposed that some things that go on there at the Gandy place are not entirely regular,” said the real estate man stiffly. “If you are a friend of Mrs. Poole––”
“I am Jessie Norwood. My father, Mr. Robert 158 Norwood, is a lawyer, and we live in the Roselawn section of New Melford.”
“Oh, ah, indeed!” murmured the real estate man. “Then I guess it is safe to tell you that the people around here do not approve of Mrs. Poole and what goes on at the Gandy place during the racing season. It is whispered that people there are interested in pool rooms in the city. You know, where betting on the races is conducted.”
“I do not know anything about that,” replied Jessie, in some excitement. “But I thank you for telling me about Martha Poole.”
She seized Amy by the arm and hurried back to the automobile.
“What do you think of that?” gasped Amy, quite as much amazed as was her chum.