Barry's spirits began to rise. There was something about her tone of positiveness which heartened him instinctively. He had not really doubted Shirley; but the statement of the unknown writer was so nonchalant and matter-of-fact that it bewildered him.
"Still," he remarked more calmly, "you asked me——"
"I had my reasons; but it wasn't because I thought it true." She stood leaning against the side of a heavy, carved table, both hands resting lightly on the dull, waxed surface, her shrewd, bright eyes holding his in thrall. "What stands between you and Shirley?" she questioned quietly.
Lawrence threw out his hands in an impatient gesture. "Everything!" he exclaimed. "Her money and my lack of it are enough, without wasting time to go into any others."
"Her money!" Mrs. Wilmerding repeated. Then, with a sudden frown, she went on swiftly: "You're right. We are wasting time. Let us get down to business at once. Shirley must be found to-night, and yet I don't feel like putting the matter into the hands of the police."
"You don't believe there can be a particle of truth in this letter?" Barry questioned.
"Of course not. I told you it was a lie. At the same time, you must see that if the matter became public it might do my niece an irreparable amount of harm. No. We must work it out ourselves. To be strictly accurate, you must find her. Being a woman, I can't very well traipse around town without causing all sorts of talk. You won't fail me, I know."
"Fail you!" Lawrence cried. "I should say not! I won't rest or sleep until Miss Rives is found. I'll rake the city with a fine-tooth comb, and if any harm has come to her——"
He broke off abruptly, his face hard, almost cruel, his eyes narrowed. The momentary silence which followed was more expressive than many words.
CHAPTER XXXV.