“What then?” Al wanted the story. “Did they find Griff?”
“No—but the stranger saw his motorcycle. He got awfully excited about it and he went with Mr. Parsons to look at it. They went close to where I was hiding back of the shrubs, but they didn’t say anything until they were close to the motorcycle. They were too far away for me to hear, then.”
“I’d have crept closer,” declared Al.
“Oh—yes! You would!” Bob was scornful. “Right out across an open yard!”
Al subsided, crestfallen.
“What then?” Curt asked quickly, to avoid any quarrel.
“They talked for about ten minutes—then the man made some notes of things Mr. Parsons said—I wish I could have heard! Then he hopped onto his motorcycle and rode off, and Mr. Parsons stood thinking for awhile and then——”
“Yes? Don’t keep us waiting. What?”
“Curt—he turned the car and went back toward town!”
“Didn’t look for Griff?” Al had recovered his usual interest.