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318 laughed. “You should have been a shopkeeper. Hello, what’s that?”

There was a loud grinding of brakes outside, and a big red touring-car which had coasted noiselessly down the hill came to a sudden stop at the corner almost under the new sign. Before they could reach the door a man in a yellow duster, evidently a chauffeur, hurried in.

“I want some gasolene,” he announced brusquely. “Where do you keep it?”

“In the back yard,” replied Chub, promptly. “Come on. How much do you want?”

“Five gallons will do. Is it any good?”

“Best made,” answered Chub. “We get it direct. Come on.”

The chauffeur followed him with a growl.

“Bet it’s low-test stuff,” he muttered.

Roy went out with them, while Harry and Dick sauntered out on the sidewalk, where they could see the car and its occupants. There were two ladies and a gentleman in the back of the car, and a second gentleman was seated in front. They all wore dust-coats, and from the appearance of the car it was evident that they were touring. One of the ladies glanced around and