“Big red car, with a silver eagle on the radiator cap?”
“That’s the bird. Yes, sir, he must be a millionaire.”
When he left the dealer in automobile supplies Ben went to his uncle’s house and secured the loan of a small, ramshackle car he had often driven before. He made sure that the car had plenty of gasoline and oil, that the radiator was full of water, and he took a look at the tires. Then he drove south from Barmouth over the State Road.
It was a fine day, and many cars were out. Ben kept a watchful eye for such a car as that of Joseph Hastings, but none answering the description passed him. So he jogged along until he came to the fork of the Cape Ann Road and turned into it. There were fewer automobiles here, the road was not made for speeding, the little car bounced about a good deal going over ruts, and rattled like a load of tinware.
He met a boy on a bicycle and asked him if he knew a place called the Gables.
“Down the road a couple of miles,” the boy told him. “Big house with a ship for a weather-vane.”
Ben thanked him and drove on. Pretty soon he saw the weather-vane on a roof to the left of the road.
The Gables had a wide lawn, stretching down to a stone wall. The entrance to the drive was at the southern end, and the gateposts were flanked with larches. Ben drove to the gate, and stopped. So far his plan had been simple; now he was undecided what course to follow next.
He was musing over this when a voice hailed him.
“Give you greetings, sir. May I ask what you’re pondering over?”