"Even so, you know she probably is not a reliable witness."
"I'll grant that her accident today may have upset her emotionally,"
Penny conceded. "After she recovers, I'm curious to learn what she'll have to say."
The hour was so late that the girls did not return to the camp site.
Louise soon went to her own home and Penny was left alone. She restlessly wandered about, polished the car, and fretted because neither her father nor Mrs. Weems came home. At length, for want of another occupation, she motored to the Riverview Home on the pretext of inquiring about the condition of the children rescued from the water.
"They're doing just fine," Miss Anderson assured her. "That is, all except Adelle. The child is very upset."
"Has she said anything more about Mr. Blake?" Penny inquired.
"She doesn't know his name, but she keeps insisting he was the man whose car killed her parents. I never was so mortified in my life as when she made the accusation. Fortunately, Mr. Blake did not take offense."
Penny was eager to talk with Adelle, and Miss Anderson said that she might do so for a few minutes. The little girl had been put to bed but seemed quite content as she played with a new doll.
"Mr. McGuire sent me this," she said, holding it up for Penny to see.
"I've named her Imogene."
Miss Anderson was called to the telephone. During the young woman's absence, Penny discreetly questioned Adelle about the motor accident in which her parents had lost their lives. She was worried lest the child be upset again, but to her relief Adelle answered in a matter-of-fact tone.
"No one will believe me," the little girl said. "Just the same, that man I saw today was the one who ran into my Daddy's car. He had a big, gray automobile with a horn on it that played a tune."
"A gray car?" Penny repeated thoughtfully. "I'm quite sure Mr. Blake's sedan is dark blue. Why, you were taken home in his automobile this afternoon, Adelle."
"It wasn't that car," the child answered. "He must have another one."
Miss Anderson re-entered the room, so Penny did not ask additional questions. Soon leaving the Home, she motored slowly toward the camp site by the river. Although she readily understood that Adelle might be mistaken, a conviction was growing upon her that Clyde Blake could have been the hit-run driver.
"Even if he doesn't drive a gray car, that proves nothing," she mused.
"He easily could have changed it during the past year."
Penny thought that she might find her father or some of the Camp Board officials still at the river. However, as she drove into the parking area, she observed that the grounds were entirely deserted. Paper plates, napkins and newspapers had been blown helter-skelter by the wind. Picnic tables still held the unsightly remains of lunches. The speakers'
platform had been torn down, even the tents were gone, for it was not planned to make practical use of the grounds until more work had been done.
As Penny was starting to drive away, she noticed a lone man near one of the picnic tables. He was dressed in rough, unpressed garments, and seemed to be scavenging food which had been left behind.
"That's the same man who pulled Adelle from the water!" she thought alertly.
Leaping from the car, Penny ran toward him.
Hearing footsteps, the man turned and saw her. Almost in panic he started for the woods.
"Wait!" Penny shouted. "I won't turn you over to the police! Please wait!"
The man hesitated, and then apparently deciding that he had nothing to fear from a girl, paused.
"I want to thank you for saving Adelle," Penny said breathlessly. "Why did you run away?"
"Well, I don't know," the man answered, avoiding her gaze. "I never liked crowds."
Penny decided to risk a direct accusation. "You are Clem Davis," she said, eyeing him steadily.
"That's a laugh," the man retorted, starting to edge away. "My name is Thomas Ryan."
"Now please don't run away again," Penny pleaded, sensing his intention.
"If you are Clem Davis, and I'm sure you are, I want to help you."
"How could you help me?"
"By exposing the men who framed you. I never believed that you set fire to the Preston barn."
"I never did."
"Please tell me about it," Penny urged, seating herself at one of the picnic benches.
"Who are you anyhow?" the man asked suspiciously. "Why are you so willing to help me, as you say?"
"I'm Penelope Parker, and my father publishes the _Star_."
"Oh, I see, you're after a story!"
"No, that part is only incidental," Penny said hurriedly. "What my father really wants to do is to expose the Black Hoods and drive them out of existence. You're the one person who might be able to provide evidence which would convict the guilty parties."
"I could tell plenty if I was a mind to do it. No one would believe me though."
"I will, Mr. Davis."
"I was in the notion of going to the Grand Jury at one time," the man said slowly. "That's what brought on all my trouble. If I'd had sense enough to have kept my mouth shut, I wouldn't be a fugitive now."
"What connection did you have with the Hoods? Were you a member of the organization?"
"Yes, I was," the man admitted reluctantly. "I didn't know much about the Hoods when I joined 'em. Then I tried to drop out, and that's what turned 'em against me."
"Suppose you tell me all about it. What is the real purpose of the organization?"
"Well, right now the Hoods are trying to force every truck farmer in this district to join the County Cooperative."
"Then Hank Holloway must be the ring leader!" Penny exclaimed, startled by the information.
"No, he's not at the head of the Hoods," Clem Davis corrected.
"Who is the man?" Penny questioned eagerly.
Clem Davis started to speak, then hesitated. An automobile had driven into the parking area only a few rods away. Several workmen who had been assigned to clean up the grounds, alighted.
"They're coming this way," Clem Davis said uneasily. "I can't risk being seen."
Abruptly, he started toward the sheltering trees.