ange companions therefore, Mrs. Bancroft's auto, towing the
injured car by means of a rope brought along for that purpose, set out on
its return journey. Jimsy rode beside his sister, who made a brave effort
to bid a cheery good-bye to the young aviators.

But, somehow, all of them felt that a constraint had been suddenly born
among them, arising out of the mystery of the missing jewels. The next
day posters, announcing a reward for the recovery of the jewels, were
hurriedly struck off at Sandy Bay printing office, and distributed
throughout the town and the surrounding country. In due course the
Prescott household, of course, received one, and the perusal of it did
not add to their cheerfulness.

The bills gave a description of the accident and the circumstances, and
Roy could not but feel that any logical person reading the things would
come to the conclusion that Roy Prescott probably knew more about the
facts of the case, at least, than any one else.

In addition to the disconcerting bills the regular police officials of
Sandy Bay visited the Prescott home and interrogated Roy, to Peggy's huge
indignation. But worse was to come; private detectives also came and
questioned and cross-questioned him at great length. Roy could not but
feel with all this that he was an object of suspicion, but he bravely
went about as before and tried to hide his inner thoughts as closely as
possible.

Jess soon recovered and was up and about once more. The four young folks
interchanged visits and motored and "aeroed" together as freely as
before, but they somehow all felt that the air was charged with some
influence that made things quite different to what they had been before
the accident and the subsequent mysterious vanishing of the jewels.

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.