“Wouldn’t it be better to send a messenger to Mr. Gladwin’s house, Helen? Suppose we should run into somebody there who knew auntie?”
“You ridiculously little fraid-cat,” Helen caught her up. “Of course there’ll be nobody there but Travers, or perhaps his man or some of the other servants. He has good reason for keeping very quiet now and sees absolutely nobody, not even––not even––not even his grandmother, if he has one.”
“And didn’t he tell you whether or not he had a grandmother, Helen?” gasped Sadie.
But Helen disdained to reply, her heart suddenly filling with rapture at the prospect of an immediate meeting with her betrothed.
CHAPTER VIII.
TRAVERS GLADWIN GETS A THRILL.
A ring at the door bell should suggest to the ordinary mind that some person or persons clamored for admission, but Whitney Barnes’s announcement seemed to have difficulty in hammering its way into Travers Gladwin’s gray matter and thence downward into the white matter of his brain cells.