“Oh, just prowling,” the editor replied, and explained briefly how he and Penny had chanced to be at the scene of the fire.
“If you followed a horseman to this lane there may be something to that anonymous telephone call,” the sheriff declared. “I’ll look around, and then have a talk with Davis.”
“Mind if we accompany you?” inquired Mr. Parker.
“Come along,” the sheriff invited.
Penny was hard pressed to keep step with the two men as they strode down the muddy lane. A light glowed in the window of the cabin, and a woman could be seen sitting at a table. The sheriff, however, circled the house. Following the trail of hoof marks he went directly to the stable, quietly opening the double doors.
Once inside, Sheriff Daniels switched on a flashlight. The bright beam revealed six stalls, all empty save one, in which stood a handsome black mare who tugged restlessly at her tether. Her body was covered with sweat, and she shivered.
“This horse has been ridden hard,” the sheriff observed, reaching to throw a blanket over her.
“Here’s something interesting,” commented Mr. Parker. Stooping, he picked up a dark piece of cloth lying in plain view on the cement floor. It had been sewed in the shape of a headgear, with eye holes cut in the front side.
“A black hood!” Penny shouted in awe.
Sheriff Daniels took the cloth from the editor, examining it closely but saying very little.