n as that, you know."

"It certainly is white of him!" Carl agreed.

"It is nothing but justice," asserted Mrs. Harling proudly. "Still,
justice isn't a common commodity in this world."

"Evidently it isn't Mr. Coulter's fault if it isn't, Mother," Louise
replied. "And isn't it nice, Carl, that I am not to go back to work
under Mr. Corcoran. Oh, I forgot to tell you that. That is almost the
best of all. No! I am to be in the shipping department where the work
is lighter and the pay better. Won't Hal be tickled to death when he
hears it? He'll be more convinced than ever that he did the right thing
to lay Corcoran out."

"I think he did. Still, it was a dangerous experiment and this should
be a warning to him," put in Mrs. Harling. "Hal must learn to be more
careful with his temper, his tongue, and those fists of his. If he
isn't he is going to get into serious trouble some day."

Carl, however, was not listening to Mrs. Harling's moralizing.

"I wish I knew how Mr. Coulter found out about Louise," murmured he,
half aloud.

Well, this was certainly a most satisfactory termination to the
Harlings' troubles. He was genuinely glad the affair had turned so
fortunately. And yet in his heart lurked a vague regret. This would
mean that probably he would never see or hear from the mysterious hero
of the red racing car again. Could the stranger have had any knowledge
of what was to happen and did that information account for his jaunty
adieu? Of course such a thing was impossible. And yet how odd and
puzzling it all was!

CHAPTER VI

THE WEB WIDENS

"Wherever did you disappear to?" inquired his mother when, hungry but
triumphant, Carl came home. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I didn't know you wanted me this morning, Ma," the boy replied, an
afterglow of happiness still on his face.

"I didn't really want you but I wanted to know where you were. I've
asked you time and time again when you go out to tell me where you're
going."

"I wanted to, Mother, but it was such a long story. Last night you were
too busy to hear it; and this morning there was no chance to talk to
you either."

He heard his mother sigh.

"It's a pretty kind of a life I lead if my own children can't get a
minute to talk to me."

"But you are busy, Ma. You know you are."

"I certainly do. Nobody knows it better," replied the woman with a sad
shake of her head.

Carl, sensing the regret in her tone, hastened to say:

"