Everywhere we turned we came against a wall of mystery. Was the Frog at
the bottom of it? But why did he always loiter in the background and
never openly molest us? There was something more terrifying about this
silent, skulking foe than there would have been about an armed
highwayman. So far to-day he had not appeared, but we did not doubt
that he was lurking in the shadows somewhere. As we stood there we saw
the motorcyclist walking down from the upper end of the street in our
direction.

"Let's wait until he comes up and thank him for telling us about the
other rooms," suggested Sahwah.

So we stood still and waited. But no sooner had he seen us standing
there on the sidewalk than he paused suddenly, turned abruptly and went
up a side street.

"Even he is avoiding us!" said Sahwah. "What on earth can be the
reason?"

We wished with all our hearts for noon, when Gladys would come and we
could get out of this wretched town. But there were still two hours
until then. We decided to go into another store and see if they would
treat us the same way. They did, only perhaps a little more so. The
proprietor followed us around like a shadow and heaved an audible sigh
of relief when we went out. Utterly disgusted, we went back to Margery.
The time passed heavily until noon and then we went out on Main Street
to watch for the arrival of the Striped Beetle. The events and
accidents we were ready to pour out to the coming girls were enough to
fill a volume, and we were sure that nothing they would have to tell
would match our story of the fire and the night in the fog.