"How could you prevent them?" she demanded.
Abell puffed airily at his cigarette. He smiled pleasantly.
"There are many ways," he said. "You do not come down to breakfast. They begin to be alarmed at your absence. Somebody goes to your room and finds there a note addressed to your grandfather. That note is apparently in your handwriting. It contains a few lines to the effect that you have made a great discovery. You have gone at once to follow it up. The family are not to be alarmed if you do not return till very late. When you come back you hope to have a joyful revelation for everybody."
Marion smiled in reply. Abell seemed to be so sure of his ground.
"What you outline means forgery," she said.
"So I presume," Abell replied coolly. "But forgery is so simple nowadays with the aid of the camera. After what I have told you you will be able to see that our scheme has been thoughtfully worked out."
"And when I come back do I bring a joyful confession with me?"
Abell looked steadily at the speaker. There was something in the expression of his eyes that caused her to drop hers.
"That depends entirely upon yourself," he murmured. "One thing you may rely upon—the confession will be made and the clouds rolled away. It is only a matter of hours now. Surely, you do not need to be told why you are detained?"
For some reason best known to herself Marion did not need to be told. It was a long time before she spoke again. She ought to have been angry with this man; she ought to have turned from him with indignation; but she did nothing of the kind. And if she had, her indignation would have been wasted.