“I wasn’t aimin’ to mention it,” he informed regally, “’cause Mr. Brady’s warned me mor’n once not to talk about the guests—”
“This is different,” Madge urged impatiently. “Tell us everything. It’s very important and time means everything!”
Bill’s blue eyes opened wider. Here was something which smacked of mystery. He decided to make the most of it.
“I been watchin’ that guy Wendell fer a long time,” he reported. “My suspicions was aroused when he kept trying’ to pump me.”
“What sort of questions did he ask?”
“Most everything. About the fishin’ and the like. He asked about whether Miss Fairaday stayed alone nights and if she’d sold any of her books and things. He’d pester me when I was tryin’ to work on the new fireplace. Come to think of it, he even asked me where the key to the cabin was kept!”
Bill had intended to tell a good story. He was surprised to find that by cudgeling his memory he had no need to call upon imagination to furnish interesting details.
“When did Clyde ask about the key?” Madge questioned.
“Lemme see,” Bill scratched his head thoughtfully. “Las’ night.”
It was all clear to Madge now. The book had been hidden only the previous afternoon. She had sensed then that someone was hiding in the bushes near the cabin. Undoubtedly, Clyde Wendell had witnessed everything.