Returning to the library after luncheon, Trask sat at the desk in deep thought.
“Got to get the girl,” he told himself. “Plenty to hold over her head—but she’s skittish, that’s plain to be seen. Also, she’s in love with Lockwood. Got to get him out of town. Nothing doing while he’s around. Now, how? Morton hinted of his being deeply in debt. If so, he’s got some past history, guess I can get something on him—got to, whether I can or not. H’m. Wonder if the little girl did do the sticking. Hard to believe it, and yet that kid’s got it in her. She sure has! And she’s a Truesdell all right. Nobody ever had those beetling brows, almost joining above those dark eyes, in that level line—why, if she’s a Truesdell—! Good Lord, I’ve got to marry her! I’ll have to scare her into it! Now, Maurice, my boy, get in some of your finest work.”
Clapping on his hat, he started for the Adams house.
As luck would have it, he met Anita and his secretary walking toward him.
“Playing truant?” he called out gaily to Lockwood.
“I’m just on my way to your house,” Gordon returned, coldly.
“You too, Miss Mystery?” and Trask gave her a wide smile.
“No; I’m going to the post-office.”
“Ah, I see. Then, on your way, Lockwood—and I’ll step along with Miss Austin.”
There was no good way out of this arrangement, so it obtained, and Trask fell into step with the girl, as Lockwood turned off toward the Waring house.