“How could it be?”
“Like enough the foolish boy showed all that money to somebody, and he has been followed right here to the house by the robber.”
Agnes gasped. Then she sat back in her chair and stared at her sister. Suddenly, with an inarticulate cry, she arose and dashed upstairs.
Although she had not asked, Agnes supposed the circus girl had retired immediately after dinner. It was still early in the evening, and Agnes and Ruth had had no private conversation regarding Barnabetta and her father. Neale’s arrival had driven that out of both their minds.
But into Agnes’ brain now came the thought that Barnabetta had seen the old album full of money and bonds while Neale was at the winter quarters of the circus.
“Oh, dear me! Can she be so very, very wicked?” thought Agnes. “They are so desperately in need. And such an amount of money is an awful temptation—that is, it would be a temptation if it were money!”
For despite all that Ruth said, Agnes could not believe that the wonderful contents of the old album was bona fide money and bonds.
The thought, however, that Barnabetta might be tempted to steal from those who had been kind to her, troubled Agnes exceedingly. She did not want to say anything to Ruth about her suspicions of the circus girl yet. Why make her sister suspicious, too, unless she was sure of her evidence?
Agnes listened at the door of Barnabetta’s room. There was no sound in there and she finally turned the knob softly and pushed open the door a crack. The lighted room was revealed; but there was no sign of occupancy save the shabby boy’s clothing folded on a chair. The bed had not been touched.
Was the circus girl with her father? Or had she left the house on some errand?