“It seems far-fetched to me,” said the Reverend Mr. Prentice doubtfully. “Who would have any motive for doing such a thing?”
“That is what we have to find out. What time did your son go to his room the night of his disappearance?”
“Earlier than usual, as I remember. A little before nine o’clock.”
“Any special reason for his going up earlier?”
“He wanted to experiment with a new fishing outfit just given him for his birthday.”
“I see. Will you take me to his room?”
They mounted to the boy’s quarters, which overlooked the roof of the side porch from a window facing north. The charred ruins of a barn about, half a mile away were plainly visible through this window.
“The barn which the meteor destroyed,” said the Reverend Mr. Prentice, pointing it out.
One glance was all that Average Jones bestowed upon a spot which, for a few days, had been of national interest. His concern was inside the room. A stand against the wall was littered with bits of shining mechanism. An unjointed fishing-rod lay on the bed. Near at hand were a small screw-driver and a knife with a broken blade.
“Were things in this condition when you came to call Bailey in the morning and found him gone?” asked Average Jones.