“Then it’s all right,” murmured Dorothea.
“I wish I knew, but I’m afraid not,” Miss Imogene went on. “I couldn’t sleep in that soft nightgown of yours after Macon Mills muslin, so, when you were sound asleep, I slipped out. I wanted to see if there was any chance of his getting off before the others woke; but, my dear, there was Val Tracy’s whole troop camped around the house! I could see their camp fires. That made me despair, for I wanted to get that bundle of clothes out of the way at least. But the boy didn’t put them outside his door. This was in the night, you understand, so I came back and waited. Well, my dear, just before dawn I dozed off, but I was awake again as the sun came up, and there wasn’t a trooper about! They’d all gone and I determined to warn young Larry and send him off to take his chances—but he isn’t there. The bed has been used and he had had his bath, but—but what has happened I fear to think. I’m afraid Val has taken him, after all.”
“I shall never want to speak to Mr. Tracy again if he has,” Dorothea protested.
“Oh, you mustn’t say that, honey,” the elder woman returned. “He must do his duty, you know. After all they are enemies, those two, and—”
She broke off a little tearfully and wiped her eyes.
“Could he have gotten out by the window?” Dorothea suggested.
“Oh, I don’t know—perhaps,” Miss Imogene replied. “I was so surprised to find him gone that I didn’t think of anything else. He may have escaped after all. I’m going back now to see if there is any clew to what happened.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Dorothea, and the two tiptoed down the hallway to Miss Imogene’s room.
“He has burned something in the fireplace,” Dorothea whispered, as she looked down at the ashes in the grate.
“Clothing!” exclaimed Miss Imogene after an inspection. “I wonder what he has worn away?”