“Not exactly trouble. But Captain Poland has gone away—his place is closed.”
“The captain gone away!” faltered the girl.
“Yes. I wondered if you knew he was going. Did he intimate to you anything of the kind?”
The colonel watched Viola narrowly as he asked this question.
“No, I never knew he contemplated ending the season here so early,” Viola said. “Usually he is the last to go, staying until late in October. Is there anything—”
“That is all I know—he is gone,” said the detective. “I wanted to ask him about that fifteen-thousand-dollar matter, but I shall have to write, I suppose. And the sooner I get the letter off the better.”
“Please write it here,” suggested Viola, indicating the table where pens, ink and stationery were always kept. “I am going to look again among the papers of the private safe to see if there was anything about books—the Arabian Nights, she said it was.”
“Yes, that's her favorite set. But don't worry, my dear. Everything will come out all right.”
And as Viola left him alone in the library, the detective added to himself:
“I wonder if it will?”