"Well we went for a little ride after supper. I thought maybe that would get him calmed down. But he wouldn't go far, said he was sleepy and was going to turn in early. But of course I see now that that was just a blind--a trick to get me out of the way. If I'd had any sense, I'd have suspected it at the time. Oh, I've been such a fool!" The last word came out with something suspiciously like a sob.
"But I don't see as you were to blame, Hattie May," I said. "Do get on and tell us the rest."
"Why, that's all! I went into his room this morning to call him for breakfast and he simply wasn't there! His--his bed hadn't been slept in at all!" she wailed.
"Gracious," I exclaimed, "you mean he'd been gone all night!"
Hattie May nodded, her lips quivering ominously. "I--I w-went to the place where he keeps his car and the man said he'd come back at half past nine last night and taken it out again and--and they haven't seen him since. And now--oh, I don't know what to do!"
"Why I wouldn't be so upset, Hattie May," Eve Said quietly. "I'm quite sure Hamish is able to take care of himself, even if he does do queer things. He's not a bit stupid, you know. Tell me, haven't you any notion where he could have gone--didn't he drop a hint even?"
"No. The only thing I can think of is that he went over to Millport to try to get trace of that terrible villain who sold him the hair tonic. Ever since he found out who he was at the picnic Saturday, he's been funny, like I told you."
"Yes," I said, "I remember he said he was going to get even with him."
"Hamish's like that," said his sister. "He can't bear to have anyone put anything over on him. I guess maybe he's got one of those superior complexions or whatever you call it."
"I don't think his complexion is anything remarkable," said Eve with a giggle. Then she added seriously, "But honest, Hattie May, if he's just gone to Millport, I don't think there's anything to worry about."
"Of course not," I agreed. "Maybe he had a breakdown--I dare say he'll turn up any minute."
"If it was a breakdown, he could have phoned me, couldn't he? I tell you he's got mixed up with that awful barber creature somehow. You can't tell what may have happened with a man like that--a man that wears a wig and--and digs up gardens! How do we know," she went on wildly, "what he dug that hole for--how do we know he wasn't burying a b-bloody weapon or--or one of his victims!"
