"Tommyrot!" he snorted out the word with intense irritation. "The silly fools! Mr. Price is no more in love with her than I am. He’s not that kind; he’s an honorable gentleman. And, believe me, the wrong’s not all on his side. It’s not for me to tell tales of the family, but I will say that there’s not many men could have put up with what he did." His face was flushed, he was openly exasperated. Mr. Larkin remembered what he had heard of the man’s affection for the master, and his thoughts formed into an unspoken sentence, "He knows something and won’t tell." "Well, well," he said cheerfully, "when a big thing happens there’s bound to be all sorts of scandal and surmise. People work off their excitement that way; you can’t muzzle ’em—" Willitts grunted a scornful assent and rose. It was time to go; Mr. Price would be coming up from town that night and he would be on duty. The detective, lifting his bicycle from the grass, casually inquired if Mr. Price motored from the city. "Oh, dear no. He keeps his car here in Sommers’ garage—he needs it, taking people about to see the country. He made a tidy bit of money here last week." "Talking of money," said the other, "did you know that ten thousand dollars’ reward has been offered for those jewels?" Willitts, astride his wheel, stretched a feeling foot for the pedal: "Yes, I saw it in the papers." "Easy money for somebody." "Yes, but _is_ there somebody beside the thief—or thieves—who knows? _That’s_ the question." They pedaled back side by side talking amicably, mutually pleased to find they were neighbors. On the outskirts of the village they parted with promises for a speedy reunion, Willitts to go to the Hartleys, and Mr. Larkin to Sommers’ garage to ask the price of a flivver for an excursion beyond the reach of his bicycle. When he arrived at the garage a large touring car, packed full of veiled females, was drawn up at the entrance. The driver, with Sommers and his assistant beside him, had opened the hood and the three of them were peering into the inner depths with the anxious concentration of doctors studying the anatomy of a patient. Mr. Larkin walked by them and went into the garage. He cast a rapid look about him, over the lined-up motors in the back, and then through the doorway into the small office. The place was empty. With a stealthy glance at the party round the touring car, he strolled in to where the time card rack hung on the wall. He ran his eye down the list of names until he came to "Price" and drew out the card. The second entry was dated July seventh and showed that that night Price had taken out his car at eight-thirty and not returned it until five minutes to two. CHAPTER X—MOLLY’S STORY