“A man’s watch charm! It has a picture inside too!”
With her fingernail, Penny pried open the lid. Flat against the cover had been fastened the photograph of a boy who might have been ten or twelve years of age.
“Where did you get it, Penny?”
“I found it lying on the barn floor, not far from the place where we picked up the black hood last night.”
“Then it must belong to Clem Davis!”
“It may,” Penny admitted, sliding into the seat beside her chum. “Still, I don’t believe the Davis’ have any children.”
“What will you do with the charm? Turn it over to the sheriff?”
“I suppose I should, after I’ve shown it to Dad,” Penny replied, carefully tying the trinket into the corner of a handkerchief. “You know, Lou, since finding this, I wonder if Mrs. Davis may not have told the truth.”
“About what, Penny?”
“She said that her husband had been framed.”