“Oh, Pat, you lucky girl!” ejaculated Jane, hugging her.
“It was right under the headlights. The man’s pal must have dropped it!”
“Heavens! Maybe he’s still around here!” shuddered Anne, as a dire thought occurred to her.
“Never thought of that!” admitted Patricia, starting the car again.
“Never fear!” asserted Katharine. “A criminal may return to the scene of his crime, but he never stays there.”
“Better go back and tell the men, Pat,” advised Jane sensibly.
In a minute or two the girls were tumbling out of the car, all talking at once to the officer who was standing in the road waiting for them to return. The body had been placed in the truck, and the coroner and Jones were ready to start off.
“One at a time!” pleaded Policeman Tyne, covering his ears with his big hands.
The other three girls stopped immediately, and allowed Patricia to tell the story without interruption.
“Must have lost this when he dodged into the woods,” remarked the coroner, who, with Jones, had left the truck and rejoined the group.
“Suppose perhaps he’s keeping under cover not too far from here,” said the officer.
“Going in the woods to look for him?” inquired the coroner.
“Not the least use in the world,” offered Jones promptly. “You’d never find your way around in there at night. It’s bad enough in the daytime. I got lost in there once. You’d just be a target for him, officer,” he added, as Tyne hesitated.
“He’s probably miles away by now, anyhow. We have no means of knowing when the crime was committed. We’ll go back, I guess, and I’ll make my report; then all surrounding towns and roads will be watched. Ready, girls?”
“Congratulations, Pat!” said Anne, generously, as they started off. “I’m awfully glad that you’ll get the reward.”
“I don’t know—” began Patricia doubtfully, watching the road closely.
“You will,” said the policeman. “You found it. Of course it will be held up for a while until after the investigation, but then you can claim it. Maybe there’ll be a reward for that fellow, too,” nodding toward the truck. “I’m pretty sure he’s Crack Mayne.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Patricia. “He’s—” then stopped abruptly.
“He’s what?” demanded Frank Tyne suspiciously.
Patricia forced an unsteady laugh, then told the story of Jack’s and her adventure in the woods. The man shook with amusement over the trooper’s mistake.
“So they took you for ‘Angel’ and your friend for Crack!” he chuckled. “Wait till I tell the boys that story.”
“Who on earth is ‘Crack’ and what did he do?” demanded Katharine.
“He’s an A-1 burglar, Miss. Wanted for lots of jobs, but he’s so d— blamed clever that nobody’s been able to lay hands on him. They say he comes of a good family; sort of black sheep, you know. Somebody said he has a sister living in Granard; of course that may be just talk. He was in town a couple of times last winter; that we know.”
“Lock up your class pin, Anne,” laughed Jane, as Anne’s eyes grew bigger and bigger.
“Yes, he might try the dorm next,” giggled Patricia.
“I have a horror of burglars. Imagine! Waking up to find one in your room. Ugh!” shuddered Anne.
“But he’s dead, you geese!” Katharine reminded them.
“That’s so,” sighed Anne with such evident relief that they all laughed.
“I’ll bet that’s who Craig was looking for,” thought Patricia, as she made the turn into Millersville for the second time.
“How much do you suppose it will be?” asked Katharine suddenly.
“What?”
“The reward, of course.”
The girls laughed a bit hysterically; for the events of the afternoon and evening had been a severe strain on the nerves of everyone. The truck turned down a side street, and as they reached the station the officer got out without waiting for Patricia to come to a full stop.
“Good luck, girls!” he cried, as he slammed the door.
“I’m hoping,” said Patricia soberly, as she put on speed, “that the reward will be enough to help me come back here next year.”
“Why, you’ve just got to come back!” declared Anne emphatically. “We can’t possibly get along without you.”
“I should say not!” agreed Katharine, reaching forward to pinch Patricia’s ear affectionately.
“I do hope you’ll get enough to be of considerable help,” said Jane earnestly.
“Time will tell,” replied Patricia, a bit shakily.
It was wonderful of the girls to be so anxious to keep her in the dear old Gang! She had known, of course, that they liked her; but she had never realized how much until she saw how shocked they were at the possibility of her not being able to return next September.
The rain stopped, and traffic was light; so they were able to make good time all the rest of the way. It was about eight-thirty when they drew up in front of Arnold Hall.
“Let’s walk down to the Coffee Shoppe and get some supper before we go in,” proposed Katharine. “If the girls once get hold of us we’ll never get out again; and I’m starved.”
“A good idea,” agreed Jane.
“Are you going to tell the Gang all about our adventures?” inquired Anne, as they walked the short distance down the street.
“Why, I thought so,” replied Patricia. “Why not?”
“Just as well,” counseled Jane. “They’ll see it in the papers, or hear it some way; and they would think it queer that we said nothing about it.”
“There’s Rhoda!” exclaimed Katharine, as they entered the restaurant. “Let’s go and sit with her. She looks lonesome.”
“Hello, Rhoda,” said Jane, sliding into the seat beside the surprised maid, while the other three girls squeezed into the seat on the opposite side of the table. “Haven’t finished, have you?”
“No; just beginning.”
“Good!” approved Anne. “Eat slowly until we get our supper.”
Rhoda obediently laid down her knife and fork, while the girls ordered; then she asked: “Did you miss your supper at the Hall?”
“I’ll say we did!” said Katharine fervently.
“We had the most exciting time!” cried Anne.
“And Rhoda,” interrupted Patricia, leaning across the table to whisper confidentially—“Just think; I found Mrs. Brock’s watch!”
“Miss Randall!” gasped the maid. “Wherever—”
“Listen!” And Patricia plunged into the story, aided by various comments from her companions. Rhoda’s eyes widened, and a deep flush crept across her face as the tale reached the discovery of the dead man.
“How—awful!” she faltered. “What—what did he look like?”
“We didn’t look at him,” responded Katharine; “but the officer thought—” she broke off abruptly, silenced