“We may not get it,” she whimpered.
“Oh, yeah? Well, if we don’t, it’ll be your fault! Because you balled up the works. Listen, Elsie, did you do what I asked when you were at the Carltons’? Suggest that you believed it was Linda Carlton hit the kid with her autogiro, and not a car?”
“Yeah. I did. But I don’t believe they hardly took it in.”
“Linda Carlton’ll take it in when we sue her for damages. I think maybe we better ask fifty thousand, and then we’ll be sure to get twenty-five.”
“Are you sure Linda has twenty-five thousand?”
“Positive. Didn’t she get that for her ocean flight?”
“Sure. But maybe she blew it in on clothes,” suggested the woman.
“Somehow I don’t believe she did,” replied Ed, with a knowing smile. Then, abruptly he frowned. “Elsie, you’ve got to get hold of that kid and take her away somewheres—pretend it’s her old home. It’s a lucky break for us that she lost her memory.”
“I’ll say so.”
Suddenly Mrs. Fishberry jumped up and darted over to her host’s chair, seating herself on the arm.