“My dear boy!” Hood protested.
“I’ve heard bad news about my father; one of the—er—servants back there told me he was in jail!”
“Stop!” bawled Hood. “This is important if true! Cassowary, I’ve told you time and again to bring me any news you pick up in servants’ halls. What have you heard about the arrest of a gentleman named Deering?”
“He’s been pinched, all right,” the chauffeur answered as he stopped the car and turned round. “The constables over at West Dempster are trapping joy-riders, and they nailed Mr. Deering about sundown for speeding. I learned that from the chauffeur at that house where you dined.”
Hood slapped his knee and chortled with delight.
“There’s work ahead of us! But probably he’s bailed himself out by this time.”
“Not on your life!” Cassowary answered, and Deering marked a note of jubilation in his tone, as though the thought of Mr. Deering’s incarceration gave him pleasure. “The magistrate’s away for the night, and there’s nobody there to fix bail. It’s part of the treatment in these parts to hold speed fiends a night or two.”
Again Hood’s hand fell upon Deering’s knee.
“A situation to delight the gods!” he cried. “Cassowary, old man, at the next crossroads turn to the right and run in at the first gate. There’s a farmhouse in the midst of an orchard; we’ll stop there and change our clothes.”
As the car started Deering whirled upon Hood and shook him violently by the collar.