“Nothing has been touched,” said the clergyman in a low voice.
Average Jones straightened up and stretched himself languidly. His voice when he spoke again took on the slow drawl of boredom. One might have thought that he had lost all interest in the case but for the thoughtful pucker of the broad forehead which belied his halting accents.
“Then—er—when Bailey left here he hadn’t any idea of—er—running away.”
“I don’t follow you, Mr. Jones.”
“Psychology,” said Average Jones. “Elementary psychology. Here’s your son’s new reel. A normal boy doesn’t abandon a brand-new fad when he runs away. It isn’t in boy nature. No, he was taking this reel apart to study it when some unexpected occurrence checked him and drew him outside.”
“The meteor.”
“I made some inquiries in the village on my way, up. None of the hundreds of people who turned out for the fire, remembers seeing Bailey about.”
“That is true.”
“The meteor fell at ten-fifteen. Bailey went upstairs before nine. Allow half an hour for taking apart the reel. I don’t believe he’d have been longer at it. So, it’s probable that he was out of the house before the meteor fell.”
“I should have heard him go out of the front door.”