“Yes—th—that’s the—the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite attached to some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting them anyway. I couldn’t understand it.”
A dark suspicion was born in John’s heart.
“Do you mean that they told, and your father had them—removed?”
“Worse than that,” she muttered brokenly. “Father took no chances—and Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had such a good time!”
She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief.
Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there open-mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many sparrows perched upon his spinal column.
“Now, I’ve told you, and I shouldn’t have,” she said, calming suddenly and drying her dark blue eyes.
“Do you mean to say that your father had them murdered before they left?”
She nodded.
“In August usually—or early in September. It’s only natural for us to get all the pleasure out of them that we can first.”