“Ah, that’s it,” he responded. “I’m on guard––keeping watch!”
“I knew it! I knew it!” and the shrill voice rose to a plangent pitch again. “You have hidden her away. Helen! Helen!”
“Now, now, now––my dear lady,” broke in Barnes, soothingly.
“I’m not your dear lady,” she flashed on him.
“My dear auntie”––Mrs. Burton’s hysteria was becoming contagious––“I beg your pardon,” he added hastily, “your niece, Miss Helen, is not here. I’ve been watching for hours, and she’s not here––no one is here.”
“That shirt-sleeved man is here––and you’re here!”
“But, auntie, he’s a friend of Mr. Gladwin’s,” interposed Sadie.
“Ah, ha! I knew it!” screamed Mrs. Burton. “He’s in the plot.” And again she plunged for him, 155 crying, “You’re his friend––you’re helping him to steal my niece. But you shan’t––I’ll prevent it––I’ll search the house. Come, Sadie!”
Barnes dodged skilfully and permitted Mrs. Burton to pass out into the hallway. Sadie was about to follow when the young man stopped her.
“But I must go with auntie,” Sadie objected.