“Do you know of any adventures, schemes, he might have had in his head that would make him want to fool you, steal off without letting you know?”
“No, but I wouldn’t. He didn’t tell me much. Boys don’t like their sisters interfering.”
“When you saw him in his room did he say anything about Miss Saunders?”
“Miss Saunders? No—he was talking about his trip. But what are you asking me all these questions for? If he didn’t go the way you thought what does it matter?”
“You’re sure he’s gone?” Rawson’s emphasis on the pronoun was heavy.
She looked at him with startled eyes:
“Yes, aren’t you? Why, you don’t think he’s here?”
It was evident that she had not grasped the sinister aspect of Joe’s mysterious actions. It struck Bassett as odd, for he knew her intelligence and her anxious doubts of the boy. What she had been through, shock and lack of sleep, had blunted her perceptions. He prayed she would get through the interview without comprehending and he did not see how she could.
“How could he be here?” she went on, that look of naive astonishment fastened on Rawson. “What for? And if he was—if he’d missed the boat or changed his mind—wouldn’t he be with us all, here among the rest of us? Of course he’s gone—he’s on his way to the woods now where he was going.”
Rawson addressed Bassett: