She sat silent for a moment, looking out across the water.
"Perhaps you're right," she said at last; "there's no use taking any unnecessary risks. The thing appealed to me—I think I should enjoy a half-hour's talk with him, matching my wits against his."
"But yours are brighter than mine," I pointed out. "You've proved it pretty effectually in the last few minutes."
"No I haven't; I've simply shown you that you overlooked one little thing. And I think you're right about the danger of going to Martigny. Our first duty is to Miss Holladay; we must rescue her before he can warn his confederates to place her out of our reach."
The unstudied way in which she said "our" filled me with an unreasoning happiness.
"But why should they bother with a prisoner at all? They didn't shrink from striking down her father?"
"And they may not shrink from striking her down, at a favorable moment," she answered calmly. "It will be easier in France than in New York—they perhaps have the necessary preparations already made—they may be only hesitating—a warning from Martigny may turn the scale."
My hands were trembling at the thought of it. If we should really be too late!
"But I don't believe they'll go to such extremes, Mr. Lester," continued my companion. "I believe you're going to find her and solve the mystery. My theory doesn't solve it, you know; it only makes it deeper. The mystery, after all, is—who are these people?—why did they kill Mr. Holladay?—why have they abducted his daughter?—what is their plot?"
"Yes," I assented; and again I had a moment of confused perplexity, as of a man staring down into a black abyss.