“And the car's stole!” gasped Mrs. Hedges, fighting for her breath.
“Yes,” said Claire; “I am afraid so.”
“Then we'll get the police at once!” announced Mrs. Hedges.
Claire looked at her for a moment.
“No,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “You mustn't do that. It—it will come back.”
“Come back?” Mrs. Hedges stared helplessly. “It ain't a cat! You—you ain't quite yourself, are you, Miss Claire? Poor dear, this has upset you. It ain't a fit thing for young eyes like yours to see. Me—I'm used to it.”
“I am quite myself.” Claire forced a calmness she was far from feeling into her voice. “You mustn't notify the police, or do a thing, except just look after Hawkins. It—it's father's car, you know; and he'll know best what to do.”
“Well, maybe that's so,” admitted Mrs. Hedges.
“Do you know who the men were who were here with Hawkins?” Claire asked.
“No, I don't,” Mrs. Hedges answered excitedly. “The thieving devils, coming here and getting Hawkins off like this! I just knew there were some men up in his room with him because I heard them talking during the evening, and then when I heard them go out and get the car I thought, of course, that Hawkins had gone with them.”