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Tall and typically English in her fair beauty, her features, in repose, had something of the hauteur and distinction of her mother, and when in motion they recalled her father. Perriton Powers was even taller than Angela. The splendid frame and stern features of Sir John's secretary made him a striking figure. Yet he was, quite frankly, sprung from the people, and made no secret of it.
Angela Elphinspoon stood with Perriton Powers among the begonias of the conservatory. The same news which had so agitated Sir John lay heavy on both their hearts. "Will the Wazoo rise?" asked Angela, clasping her hands before her, while her great eyes sought the young man's face and found it. "Oh, Mr. Powers! Tell me, will they rise? It seems too dreadful to contemplate.
"And," he added, "I was right there in front of Chet Belding's father's jewelry store when that automobile knocked you down." "You don't mean it?" "Yes, sir. I saw the machine. It was a Perriton car all right. It might even have been Pretty Sweet's car. But it wasn't Pretty Sweet driving it, I am sure." The boy's earnestness caught the man's full attention.
"Who is she, then?" gasped Marian. "Sue Perriton says she is Mrs. Conroth's niece, and Mrs. Conroth is all the Society with a capital letter there is. Now, figure it out," said Cecile tartly. "If you smarties had taken her up right at the start " "But we didn't kno-o-ow!" wailed Marian. "Go on!" commanded Prue grimly. "Why, Miss Grayling's father is a big scientist, or something, at Washington.
"It appears that he always does. Otherwise the physical features might not suit him." "But could you not send some one to see?" "We did. We sent Perriton Powers to find out where it was. We had a month to the good. It was barely time, just time. Powers has failed and we are lost. To-morrow all England will guess the truth and the Government falls."
"Well, the only thing we were sure of about the car that ran that man down the Alaskan miner, you know was that the rear wheels had no chains on them, and that it was a Perriton car like Purt's." "Yes, it was a Perriton," said his sister. "So we fellows hiked up there to Sweets'. Purt was out with the car. He came home in about an hour, and he was still skidding over the ice.
Two of Centerport's detective force had been working on the case ever since the stranger had been knocked down on Market Street, and, like Chet Belding and his friends, the detectives finally had come to the conclusion that Prettyman Sweet's automobile was the only Perriton car in the city that had not been in storage on that night.
The thing had occurred within twenty-four hours. Freshly opened meat and fruit tins explained the reason for the attack. Dakon examined the bodies. "I thought so," he reported. "I've ridden in that car. It was Perriton the whole family. We've got to watch out for ourselves from now on." "But we have no food with which to invite attack," I objected.
"But the car?" urged Lance Darby. "Who has a Perriton car, Short and Long?" "And without chains?" added Chet, waking up to the main topic. "Come along, fellows," said the younger lad. "I won't tell you. But I'll take you to where you can see the car I mean. If it still is without chains on the wheels, and has just been used Well, we can talk about it then!" "All right," said Chet.
It was nothing about Uncle Amazon and the Shell Road store; some other wind of mischance had ruffled her soul. But the girl ignored Aunt Euphemia's signals for several minutes; until she made herself, indeed, more familiar with the manner and personal attributes of these new acquaintances. There was a Miss Perriton of about her own age whom she liked at first sight.
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