thing like
that."

"What'd you do?"

"I've found where she was wrenched in the turn-over. Got to have a new
pin for this off wheel before she goes much farther."

"All right, I'll order one by telegraph to-day. What 'd you do, I
asked."

Hand wriggled himself out from under the car and got on his feet. He
thrust his grimy hands deep into his pockets, stood for a moment
contemplative and belligerent, as if undecided whether to explode or
not, and then silently walked away.

As Mr. Straker watched his figure moving slowly toward the kitchen, he
started a long low whistle, expressive of suspicion and doubt. Midway,
however, he changed to a lively tune whose title was "I've got him on
the run"--a classic just then spreading up and down Broadway. He took
a few turns about the car, looked at the gearing with a knowing air,
and then went into the house.

If he had been a small boy, his mother would have punished him for
stamping through the halls; being a grown man and a visitor, he may be
described as walking with firm, bold tread. Finally he was able to run
down Agatha, who was conferring with Sallie in the library.

Sallie sniffed in scorn of Mr. Straker, whom she disliked far worse
than Mr. Hand; nevertheless, as she left the room she twisted up her
gingham apron and tucked it into its band in a vague attempt at company
manners. Mr. Straker lost no time in attacking Agatha.

"What d'you know about that chauffeur-nurse and general roustabout
that's taking care of your young gentleman up-stairs?" he inquired
bluntly.

Innocent of subtlety as Mr. Straker was, he was nevertheless keen
enough to see that Agatha's instincts took alarm at his words. Indeed,
one skilled in reading her face could have detected the nature of the
uneasiness written there. She could not lie again, as she had
unhesitatingly lied to the sheriff; neither could she abandon her
position as protector to Mr. Hand. She wished for cleverness of the
sort that could throw her manager off the scent, but saw no way other
than the direct way.

"Nothing--I know almost nothing about him."

"Comes from N'York?"

"I fancy so."

"Well, take it from me, the sooner you get rid of him the better.
Chances are he's a man of no principle, and he'll do you."

Agatha was silent. Meantime Mr. Straker got his second wind.

"Of course he knows what he's about when it comes to a machine," the
manager continued, "but mark me, he knows too much for an