“Belle had a regular series of apparitions,” declared Bess, now running from the terror state into one of extreme hilarity, the natural reaction from her awful experience.
“But we have to wait for that—chauffeur,” wailed Mrs. Robinson.
“Why should we wait for him?” asked Jack.
“He has gone for something,—Cora knows,” concluded the woman helplessly.
“Why, when I found my starting system was out of commission he said it was best for him to go and get new batteries. So he hurried off in his car, to go to the shop we passed out on the turnpike. It was then we discovered we were in the graveyard. He had turned in here by the merest accident. It was so dreadfully dark.”
“He mistook this road for the one to Wayside,” interrupted Belle.
“And ran off and left you in a cemetery,” said Ed with a sneer.
“But we couldn’t go on without the Whirlwind,” argued Cora. “Had it been one of the smaller cars that failed we might have managed.”
“And he didn’t try to fix your batteries?” inquired Walter.
“Why, he said he—couldn’t,” answered Cora in a tone of voice that betrayed her own suspicions.