“Neither did I,” admitted John. “There’s something queer about it—but maybe she’ll explain tomorrow. I wasn’t allowed to stay with her long today, and she was too weak to talk much.”
It was Mr. Gay who put the question that was trembling on Mary Louise’s lips:
“Does she think her niece—Elsie Grant, I mean—stole the necklace?”
“She didn’t say,” answered John. “But I don’t believe so, because she asked whether Elsie had confessed yet about the gold pieces. That wouldn’t indicate that she believed her guilty of another theft.”
“No, it wouldn’t,” agreed Mr. Gay. “But everything points that way. We have bad news for you, Mr. Grant: Elsie has disappeared.”
“Humph!”
John Grant’s grunt and his nod were significant. “I was afraid of that,” he said.
“I have already notified the police,” announced Mr. Gay. “They are watching for her at the railroad stations, and I have wired the pawnshops and jewelers in Harrisburg and other cities nearby. We’ll probably catch her by tonight.”
“I hope so,” sighed John. “It’s too bad. I feel sort of guilty about the whole thing. If we had taken the child into our home, instead of letting her go with Aunt Mattie, it would never have happened. But we were feeling the depression and didn’t see how we could assume any more expense. My brother isn’t earning anything, and Mother lost most of her inheritance. While Aunt Mattie, of course, had plenty.... But it was a mistake.”
Mary Louise looked gratefully at the man: John Grant was the only person besides herself who felt any pity for Elsie. How she wished he had been able to bring her up!... But it was too late now for regrets.