"Mercy on us! I never noticed all this before!" cried Mr. Tolman, in consternation. "What in the world—" he stopped as if he could find no words to voice his amazement. "Look at this!" He placed a finger on a broad, clearly defined line that extended from the top of the tonneau to the bottom. "You would think somebody had dug his heels in here and then slid down until he reached the ground! And this! What on earth has happened to the thing, Havens? It looks as if it had been used for a gymnasium."
Hot and cold by turns, Steve listened. The marks to which his father pointed told a truthful story. Somebody had braced his heels against the side and then slid to the ground; it was Bud Taylor. And that other jagged line indicated where Tim Barclay had scrambled over the edge and made his hurried exit. The history of the whole miserable adventure was etched in the varnish as vividly as if it had been traced there in words. Stephen gasped with horror when he saw how plainly the entire story stood out in the sunlight of the November day. Why, the most stupid person alive could read it! Every moment he expected that his father or Havens would wheel on him and ask accusingly:
"When was it you carried all those boys to Torrington?"
He could hear his heart thumping inside him and feel the beat of the blood that scorched his cheek. He had not pictured a dilemma like this. The affair had gone off so smoothly that he had flattered himself every possibility of discovery was past, and in this comforting knowledge he had basked with serenity. And now, behold, here he was at the brink of peril, and just when he had had such a glorious holiday, too!
"How do you solve the riddle, Havens?" he heard his father asking.
"I ain't solvin' it, sir," was the drawling answer. "Maybe Steve could give you a hint, though," he added slyly.
The lad stiffened. He and Havens had never been friends. They had been through too many battles for that. The chauffeur did not like boys and took no trouble to conceal the fact, and as a result he had been the prey of many a mischievous prank. It was through his vigilance that Stephen had more than once been brought to justice and in the punishment that followed Havens had exulted without restraint. As a retaliation the boy tormented him whenever opportunity presented, the two carrying on a half-bitter, half-humorous feud which was a source of mutual gratification.
Had not this been the case the confession that trembled on Stephen's tongue would doubtless have been uttered then and there. But to speak before Havens and afford him the chance to crow and rejoice,—that was not to be thought of. Therefore, drawing in his chin and holding his head a trifle higher than was his wont, he replied with hauteur:
"I've no solution at all to offer. How could I have?"
For the fraction of a second Mr. Tolman looked sharply at his son as if some new thought had suddenly struck him; then the piercing scrutiny faded from his eyes and he turned away.