hind your barn and it's one of the cars that were stolen in the past couple of weeks."
The chums glanced questioningly at Jack Dodd.
"These men are detectives," he said, in a low voice. "They came out from the city with the trooper a little while ago."
"Did they really find a stolen car here?" asked Chet.
Jack nodded.
"They found one all right, but how on earth it got here, I don't know. It's a Packard and somebody must have driven it in and left it among the bushes behind the barn. We never noticed it."
"Well," the state trooper was saying, "I'm going to drive the car back to Bayport and return it to the owner. You don't claim it's yours, do you?" He gestured toward a splendid touring car near by.
"Of course it isn't mine," said Mr. Dodd. "I've never seen it before and I never want to see it again—"
"I guess you don't," growled one of the detectives.
"How it got here, I can't tell. I certainly had nothing to do with stealing it."
"People don't leave perfectly good cars hidden behind other people's barns," said the
