“In case they should want to capture you. The police, I mean.”
“Police?” he said.
“Didn’t I just tell you they were coming for you?”
“Indeed?” He looked down in her eyes to see if she was in earnest. He believed she was. “For what?”
“Oh, you know.” She raised her lips. “Say, that was a real stingy one, under the oak.”
“You say all has been discovered?” went on Bob, disregarding her last remark.
“I say that was a real stingy—”
“Hang it!” But he had to. He knew he had to get that idea out of her head, before he could get any more real information from her.
“And think how you deceived poor little me, about it!” she purred contentedly. After all, thought Bob, it didn’t take “much of a one” to satisfy her. She had only wanted “it,” perhaps, because “it” fitted in; “it” went with eloping. Perhaps “it” would have to happen about once so often. Bob hoped not. She was a dainty little tyrant who let him see plainly she had sharp claws. She could scratch as well as purr. Somehow, he felt that he was doubly in her power—that he was doubly her slave now—that something had happened which made him so. He could not imagine what it was.
“They’re keeping it very quiet, though,” she went on. “The robbery, I mean!”