"Well, I am glad you didn't," answered Clip sincerely. "I do think that a courtroom is about the meanest place I have ever visited—and I have been in a lot of queer places. And the girls," went on Clip. "Whatever will they say to you two runaways?"
"What won't they say?" replied Duncan. "I am not to blame, of course.
Miss Cora simply inveigled me into allowing her to ride with me—"
"I saw Reed pass over the back country road a moment ago," interrupted
Tom. "I might guess where he is going."
"Where?" asked the trio in a breath.
"To that junk shop on the turnpike," replied Tom. "He seems to think the shop is haunted with a valuable ghost. He goes out there almost daily."
"You mean the antique shop?" asked Cora. "Oh, I know. He is after a table. I am sure it is he who has given the order—" She stopped—her finger on her lip. Tom seemed to know so much—what if he should know about the missing table? "Have you any idea what he is after?" asked Cora directly.
"Well, I ought to know," replied Tom, "for he has made no secret of it. He has searched every attic from Breakwater to Moreland. I caught an old junk dealer in our barn the other morning, and while I watched him get down the road I saw Reed come along. Of course, he had hired the man to search where he himself could not go. He is after some sort of ancient rustic table, I believe."
Clip and Cora exchanged meaning looks. Cora had not for a moment forgotten about the antique man's promise to have the original table in a few days. She was to see this and then—
"We are not out of the woods yet," remarked Clip. "I am thinking, Duncan, that you have undertaken a large contract. You have positively agreed to have me back in Chelton by to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock."
"Oh, we will see about that," replied the physician with a sly look at
Cora. "There is a telephone in Breakwater—"