“‘Of some sort’ describes it. Want me to run you over to Turner’s?”
“Yes—but only to where the Turner road branches out of the one to Twin Heads Harbor.”
“Right, Bill. Before we start, hadn’t you better tell me what you want me to do?”
“We can talk about that on the way over,” said his young employer. “While you’re dragging out the fliv. or the Chev. or whatever it is, I’ll get hold of Charlie and say goodbye to Mrs. Parker.”
Ezra chuckled. “She’ll be some happy girl when I tell her what you’ve done. The three of us will get kissed good and proper!”
“I don’t mind, if you don’t!” laughed Bill, and went toward the house.
Chapter V
STRANGE DOINGS AT TURNER’S
The flivver pulled up at the side of the dirt road and stopped. Ezra Parker, behind the wheel, switched off the motor and likewise the lights. Patches of moonlight filtered through interlocking branches that arched the grassgrown highway. These silvery patches seemed but to deepen the velvety black of the woods. After the noisy chugging of four ancient cylinders the silence of the forest was oppressive.
“Yonder’s the road to Turner’s,” Ezra volunteered, pointing toward a narrow track, choked with weeds, which led off to the right. “The house is two or three miles farther on.”
“I know! I’ve been over it twice in a car—and gee whiz!—it sure is a tough one to drive,” piped Charlie from the back seat.