ome thoughts out of his head. But he resolved to get
the aeroplane the first thing the following morning.

CHAPTER VII.

A CASE FOR THE AUTHORITIES.

It was just after breakfast the next morning that a big automobile skimmed
past the Prescott home. Peggy and Roy saw it from the windows.

"Why, that's Sheriff Lawley," exclaimed Peggy. "And look, old Mr. Harding
is with him, and that Mortlake man."

"That's right. Wonder where they can be going?" said Roy, sauntering out
to the garage at the back of the house and giving the matter little more
thought. It had been arranged that he was to bring the aeroplane back that
morning, driving over with Peggy, Jimsy and Jess in the car, and skimming
home in the _Butterfly_ while a part of the party brought the car back.
They were to call for Jess and Jimsy at their home, a fine residence
overlooking the Sound from a lofty hill.

Jess and Jimsy were waiting for them, and, almost before the car had
stopped, they were at its side.

"Heard the news?" asked Jimsy breathlessly.

"No. What is it?" demanded Peggy eagerly.

"Why, that safe at the farm-house was robbed last night. All the money was
taken, and they have no clue to the thief."

"How did you hear of it?" asked Roy incredulously. Peggy had told him of
the queer wall safe.

"The 'central' told one of the servants and she told Jess. Strange, isn't
it?"

"It is odd," agreed Roy. "But if people will keep their money in such
places, it is hardly surprising if they lose it. Did you hear any
details?"

"No, but no doubt we shall when we reach the farm-house," put in Jess;
"isn't it thrilling, though?"

"Not very thrilling for poor Galloway, who lost the money," said Peggy. "I
expect he didn't make it any too easily."

On their arrival at the Galloway farm-house, the young people found a
scene of great excitement. The sheriff, red-faced and important, was
examining several farm hands beneath one of the big elms, while in the
background stood the farmer and his wife, looking somewhat perplexed, as
well as worried.

As the Prescott auto drove up, old Mr. Harding, in his usual rusty black
suit, rose from his seat under the elm, and whispered something to the
sheriff. The blue-chinned, thick-necked Mortlake arose also. All three
turned and gazed curiously at the young occupants of the car, as it slowed
down.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Galloway," cried Peggy. "We were dreadfully
sorry to hear of your loss. Hav