“But how do we get out, Monty? Where do we get exercise?”
“You’ll come out to-morrow night: I’ll see to that,” he said, dropping his voice. “Now listen, Joan: you’ve got to be a sensible girl and help me. There’s money in this—bigger money than you have ever dreamed of. And when we’ve got this unpleasant business over, I’m taking you away for a trip round the world.”
It was the old promise, given before, never fulfilled, always hoped for. But this time it did not wholly remove her uneasiness.
“But what are you going to do with the girl?” she asked.
“Nothing; she will be kept here for a week. I’ll swear to you that nothing will happen to her. At the end of a week she’s to be released without a hair of her head being harmed.”
She looked at him searchingly. As far as she was able to judge, he was speaking the truth. And yet——
“I can’t understand it,”—she shook her head, and for once Monty Newton was patient with her.
“She’s the owner of a big property in Africa, and that we shall get, if things work out right,” he said. “The point is that she must claim within a few days. If she doesn’t, the property is ours.”
Her face cleared.
“Is that all?” She believed him, knew him well enough to detect his rare sincerity. “That’s taken a load off my mind, Monty. Of course I’ll stay and look after her for you—it makes it easier to know that nothing will happen. What are those baize things behind the furnace—they look like boxes?”