Haynes walked forward to meet him, “G’-morning,” he said pleasantly. “Did you happen to see anything of a gentleman in a black suit an’ eye-glasses, wanderin’ absentmindedly about this part of the world?”
“No,” said Haynes. “Have you lost such a one?”
“Reckon he’s lost himself, Hain’t showed up since last evenin’. Just the kind o’ man to lose himself in open country. Sort o’ crank, always makin’ exper’ments.”
“What kind of experiments?”
“Foolish doin’s with kites, like a kid.”
“Is he staying with you?”
“Boardin’. Been there a week. Says he’s study-in’ air currents. Goes out in the evenin’s an’ puts up a lot o’ kites. I’ve seen him with as many as seven onto one string. He’s mighty smart at it.”
“What time did he start out yesterday evening?” asked Haynes.
“Long about ha’-past seven. Looked for him back when the wind dropped and come again so uneasy, just before that shower. But no Mr. Ely.”
“Is that one of his kites?” asked the reporter, pointing to the broken rhomboid which he had laid in the long grass.