Peggy privately made up her mind, with a truly feminine intuition, that Fanning Harding had something to do with the affair. Recalling his strange visit to the wood, she even visited the place by herself one day to see if she could light upon any clew that might serve to clear things up. But, as might have been expected, she found nothing.
Her trip over had been made in the Golden Butterfly. Disappointed at her lack of success, for she had almost allowed herself to believe that she would, in some queer fashion, happen upon a clew, the girl was preparing to return, when something happened.
A rod, connecting a warping lever with the right wing of the monoplane, snapped with a sharp crack.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Peggy to herself, "what shall I do?"
She looked about her as if seeking for information from her surroundings. All at once she became aware that two men had emerged from the wood behind her and were watching her closely.
Plucky as the girl was, she felt her heart beat a little quicker as she gazed. There was something so very piercing in their scrutiny.
Suddenly one of them stepped forward, and Peggy saw, to her astonishment, that she knew him. More astonishing still, the man was trembling and whitefaced as if in alarm at something.
It was Morgan, the butler at Mrs. Bancroft's.
"Why, Morgan, whatever are you doing here?" exclaimed Peggy as she breathed more freely.
The man hesitated. His companion, whom Peggy could now see was an employe about the Bancroft stables, came to his rescue.
"Why, miss, we've been doin' a bit of trapping in the woods there."
"Yes, miss, that's hit," struck in Morgan, a stout, puffy-faced Englishman with "side burns."
"A bit o' poaching, as you might say, miss. I 'opes you won't tell on hus."
"Good gracious, no," laughed Peggy, immensely relieved to find that the two men were not strangers. "I thought you looked scared when you saw me, Morgan."
"Yes, miss. You see, I haint used in hold England ter see young ledies a flyin' round like bloomin'--bloomin' pertater bugs, hif you'll pardon the comparison, miss. But 'as yer 'ad han h'accident?"
"I have," rejoined Peggy, restraining an impulse to say "I 'ave." "It's not much. If there was a blacksmith shop round here I could get it fixed in a jiffy. It's just this rod that's snapped."