“We may have been mistaken,” Penny admitted. “The license number of the car was K-4687.”
“Why, that’s the plate number of mine!” the Widow Jones exclaimed. “Leastwise, I recollect it is!”
“You’re certain the car still is in the shed?” Salt asked.
“You got me all confused now, and I hain’t cartain of anything. Come in while I get a lantern, and we’ll look!”
Penny and Salt stepped into a clean kitchen, slightly fragrant with the odor of spicy catsup made that afternoon. On a table stood row upon row of sealed bottles ready to be carried to the cellar.
The Widow Jones lighted a lantern and threw a woolen shawl over her bony shoulders.
“Follow me,” she bade.
At a swift pace, she led the way down a path to a rickety shed which stood far back from the road.
The woman unfastened the big door which swung back on creaking hinges. Raising her lantern, she flashed the light on the floor of the shed.
“Hit’s gone!” she exclaimed. “Someone’s stole the car!”