Chapter Forty Four.
Pierce Leigh returned home after a long weary day of watching. From careful thought and balancing of the matter, he had long come to the conclusion that Claud Wilton’s ideas were right, and that John Garstang knew where his cousin was. But suspicion was not certainty, and though he told himself that he had no right or reason in his conduct, he could not refrain from spending all the time he could spare from his professional work in town—work that was growing rapidly—in trying to get some news of the missing girl.
He was more amenable now, and ready to discuss the matter with his sister, who remained Kate’s champion and declared that she was sure there was some foul play in the matter; but he would not give way, and laughed bitterly whenever Jenny aired her optimism, and said she was sure that all would end happily after all.
“Silly child!” he said bitterly. “If Miss Wilton was the victim of foul play—which I do not believe—she could have found some means of communicating with her friends.”
“But she had no friends, Pierce,” cried Jenny. “She told me so more than once.”
“She had you.”
“Oh, I don’t count, dear; I was only an acquaintance, and it had not had time to ripen into affection on her side. I soon began to love her, but I don’t think she cared much for me.”
“Ah, it was a great mistake,” sighed Leigh.