“Keep away from the hood, that’s all.”
The car rolled away, and filled the night with the low, smooth thunder of its exhaust. The doctor’s ears registered and catalogued sounds. Only a high-priced motor could sound like that—and only a piece of tin could rattle as the car rattled. A queer intentness twitched at the corners of the blind man’s mouth.
“That’s queer,” Jerry observed. “Two cars in a row, and they both had something hidden. This last boiler was all of seven-eight years old, and shabby as a beggar’s coat. Had something under that hood, though, he was powerful anxious for no one to see. What do you make of it, Doctor?”
“Coincidence,” the doctor said mildly. Two cars, and each with something hidden. Lady’s tail thumped the floor, and Joe Morrow came into the office and stood around. The doctor’s ears, registering an unseen world by sound, caught the tempo of the boy’s restless feet. Bursting with something, the blind man decided. The rod mended at last, man and boy and dog came out to the street, and Lady led them toward the lake.
Joe’s voice trembled. “A car pulled out just as I came back, Uncle David. You know that cobbled road that runs off from Main street, and goes down into the hollow behind the cottonwoods and rises to the back door of the bank?”
“The road the express wagon uses when it takes money to and from the bank?”
“Yes, sir.” The boy swallowed with a gulp. “I saw that car in there twice today, just sort of hanging around.”
An automobile, making speed, went up the street with a low drone of power.
“There she goes now,” Joe cried, excited.
“A wonderful motor,” said Dr. Stone.