"You're right," he agreed, after a moment. "He didn't want to get even, then; he wanted her back. So he sent a letter——"
"It wasn't a letter. Perhaps it was a telegram."
"No, it wasn't a telegram—I looked that up. Are you sure it wasn't a letter?"
"Yes. The morning mail was delivered shortly after nine. She was happy as usual until the moment of her disappearance, two hours later. If it wasn't a letter or a telegram, he must have come in person."
Godfrey sat for a moment with intent face.
"I hardly think so," he said, at last. "Some one would have noticed a stranger, and I made special inquiries on that point, though it was a lover I was looking for, not a husband. I rather imagined that there was another man in the case, and that, at the last moment, she decided to marry him and ran away to do it."
"No," I said decidedly, "she was in love with Curtiss—passionately in love with him."
"Well, lover or husband, I don't believe he came in person. I think it much more probable that the warning came from inside the house."
"From the maid," I suggested.
"Precisely," he nodded. "From the maid."