d clay like that around here except in one place--at
the old mill on the Red Bank road." Chester demonstrated his
theory excitedly. "I ought to know, I've ridden with him on every
out-of-the-way by-path in the county, first any' last. There's a fright
of a hill just there."

"Five miles with that arm? Gee!" This was Buller.

"Plucky," was Grayson's comment, and there was a general agreement among
the men standing round.

Macauley put his shoulder to the Imp. "Let's push her in, fellows," he
proposed. He had forgotten that they were medical gentlemen of position.
"I don't seem to want to drive her just now," he explained.

They pushed the Imp to the red barn and shut it in with its injuries.
Then they went back to the house, where presently Burns came out from
under his anaesthetic and lay looking at his guests from under the
bandage which swathed his head.

"I'm mighty sorry to have broken up the fun this way, gentlemen," he
said with a pale sort of smile. "Grayson was telling a story when I
butted in, I think. Finish it, will you, Grayson?"

"Not much. Yours is the story we want now, if you're up to telling it.
What happened out there on the Red Bank road?"

Burns scanned him. "How do you know what road?"

"Your friend Mr. Chester's detective instincts. He says there's no other
red clay like that that plasters your car. By the way, that's a fast
machine of yours. Did you lose control on the hill?"

"That's it," acknowledged Burns simply. "I lost control."

Chester was staring at him. It was not in the nature of reason to
suppose that Red Pepper had lost control of that car unless something
else had happened first. The steering gear of the Imp was certainly in
perfect condition; Macauley had said so. He wondered if Red meant that
he had lost his temper. But what could make him lose his temper--on Red
Bank hill?

They questioned him closely, all of them in turn. But that was all he
would say. He had lost control of the car. One or two of the men who
knew Burns least looked as if they could tell what was the probable
cause of such loss of control. Chester wanted to knock them down as
he fancied he recognized this attitude of mind. And at last they
went away--which was certainly the best thing they could do in the
circumstances.

All but Ronald Grant. The Scottish surgeon accepted without hesitation
Burns's suggestion that Doctor Grant should stay and keep him company
for an hour or two while he got used to