“What are you doing here anyhow?” questioned Vevi alertly. “You’re not a detective, are you?”
Once a long while before, the little girl had been carried away with a circus and during the exciting trip had met a detective. The manner of this quiet stranger reminded her somewhat of the other investigator.
“My name is Frederick Evans,” the man replied. “I’m with the FBI.”
“The FBI!” gasped Vevi, deeply impressed. “Is that the secret service?”
“FBI stands for Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m doing a little investigating.”
Mr. Evans then began to ask casual questions about Hanny’s uncle and the various customers who came to his farm. He inquired as to recent shipments of tulip bulbs from Holland and whether or not Mr. Van Der Lann had any helpers.
“Only me,” Hanny replied to the last question. “We did have a hired man earlier this spring. But now he is working for Mr. and Mrs. Mattox.”
Mr. Evans next asked if Hanny’s uncle had a customer by the name of Mrs. Gabriel.
“Oh, no!” the little girl returned with emphasis. “She used to come here, but Uncle Peter told her he did not want her business.”
“Did he tell you why?”