“Really? I’m awfully sorry!” he murmured, with apparent sincerity. “You girls certainly do have hard luck!”
Again Marjorie eyed him suspiciously; was it possible that he and his brother had had a hand in the theft? It seemed scarcely possible that their car could have been stolen at random, by some ordinary thief. And yet, how could these young men have obtained entrance to a locked garage? The thought however, gave her new stimulus for investigation; silently she made a resolve not to be in any hurry to leave Miss Vaughn’s.
Mrs. Hart interrupted her musings with an announcement of her intended departure.
“Indeed you aren’t going!” insisted Miss Vaughn, heartily. “You’re tired out—and need a rest. Besides,” she added, with a twinkle in her eyes, “I kept your room ready for you. I expected something like this to happen!”
“What?” demanded Marjorie, in surprise. “You didn’t expect us to complete our trip, Miss Vaughn?”
“I hardly thought it possible.”
“Yes!” stormed Marjorie; “there is something against us—something too big for us to fight against alone!”
Again she noted the uneasiness, the embarrassment of Miss Vaughn’s nephew—an attitude so uncharacteristic of either of the young men as to arouse her suspicions afresh.
“Have you seen Mr. McDaniel and Mr. Cryton since we left, Miss Vaughn?” she asked, with apparent carelessness.
“No; but I know that they are in town. They telephoned last night to find out whether I had heard from your girls.”