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Updated: June 4, 2025
The appearance of the scarab and the scene at the ball when Nyoda had found the necklace in her pocket came over us like a flash. What dupes we had been never to suspect the truth before! The procession moved on again with the motorcyclist keeping hold of the fender. Thus it was that we came into Chicago, under police escort, and were chaperoned up the steps of the police station.
To her astonishment the doctor seemed to accept Hoff's brief recital of finding an injured motorcyclist on the road without question. Perhaps if she had seen the amount of the bills Hoff left to care for the chauffeur's treatment she might have understood better.
"I was just thinking that we might persuade her to stay longer on the plea that we wanted to bring the motorcyclist to justice and needed her identification." Amy looked a little disappointed. "Well, I don't know," she said doubtfully. "She said the other day that she didn't care much about bringing the fellow to justice.
She addressed Betty, but the Little Captain did not answer, for the reason that she was staring into the baggage car, the side door to which was wide open. "See that man!" She pointed to an individual who stood in the baggage car, his hands holding up a motorcycle. "Oh, Betty, is it that man our motorcyclist ?" began Mollie. "I am sure it is!" cried Grace.
"I didn't," cried the badgered Mollie in desperation, then turned away in disgust. "There's no use trying to tell you anything," she said. "Go ahead, Mollie dear," urged Betty. "I meant," Mollie continued slightly, but only slightly, mollified, "that we were hunting two men Mrs. Sanderson's Willie and the motorcyclist who ran her down. And we haven't any more real chance of finding them than "
Oh, dear, has anybody got a handkerchief?" as two other tears threatened to make their appearance. "I didn't know I had it in me to be such a goose." "We seldom do realize our possibilities," drawled Grace, but Mollie was too busy wiping away the traces of her weakness to notice the insult. "And to think," Amy murmured softly, "that if that old motorcyclist hadn't knocked Mrs.
Down the road the bearded and goggled motorcyclist stopped just in time to avoid observation. To make sure, he drew a pocket field- glass and leveled it ahead. "Wait here," ordered Del Mar. "I'll call when I want you." Back on the road the bearded cyclist could see Del Mar move down the track though he could not hear the directions. It was not necessary, however.
"They'd simply think it was a particularly husky piece of cheese!" It was only a few days later that the wonderful, the incredible thing happened! The girls were returning from a rather hurried excursion to a near-by town when they came face to face with the motorcyclist. His motor had evidently stalled, and he was standing in the middle of the road tinkering with it.
There was a sound from the front seat that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, but not being quite sure, the girls could do nothing whatever about it. "But look he's getting away from us!" wailed Amy suddenly, and once more all their attention was focused on the chase. And, quite suddenly, while they watched, the motorcyclist disappeared from view as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up.
She asked such few questions that I have a suspicion that she knew all about us already from the motorcyclist, for we had no doubt that it was he who had sent Nyoda the note. How he knew Mrs. Moffat was trying to put us out was beyond us, unless he had been passing the open front door and overheard her conversation, which had not been in low tones by any means.
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