“After Griff ran off—what, then?” Al demanded.
“A taxi came racing along and stopped at The Windsock.”
“What did you do?”
“What could I do, except keep hidden and watch?” Curt’s question brought the counter-question from Bob. “The taxi door opened—and who do you suppose jumped out?”
“Who?” Curt and Al spoke at once.
“The very man Al and I saw in the supply room.”
“I saw him hail the taxi,” Al exclaimed. “Everything is beginning to fit together.”
“Yes, it is,” Bob agreed, “and, what’s more, it fits tightly. As soon as the stranger paid his fare he recognized Mr. Parsons who was halted on the roadhouse veranda, watching. They began to talk, and stood there for a minute.”
“They knew each other!” Curt exclaimed. “They must be working together to loot the supply room. That’s probably how the mystery man got in: he had a key from Mr. Parsons.”
“It looks like that,” admitted Bob.