“Why—I had just a suspicion that he might have been that Dodd girl’s brother.” She lifted pained eyes to meet his.
“I see,” he said, his tone kindling with sympathy. “Has she any—ah—further reason for revenge than what I know?”
“Yes,” owned Cornelia. “She sent word to Carey to call her up, and he didn’t do it. She had invited him to go on an automobile ride. He didn’t go, and we were all away when they must have stopped for him.”
“I see. Will you call up Miss Kendall on some pretext or other, and find out if she is at her home? Quickly, please.” His tone was grave and kindly, but wholly businesslike and Cornelia, feeling that she had found a strong helper, sped into the house on her trembling feet, giving thanks that the telephone had just been put in last week.
Maxwell stood beside her as she called the number, silently waiting.
“Hello. Is that you, Grace? Was it ‘Oh, eyes that are weary’ that you wanted me to bring? Thank you, yes; I thought so, but I wanted to make sure; good-bye.”
Maxwell had not waited to hear more than that Miss Kendall was at home. He strode out to his car; and, when Cornelia reached the door, he had his hand on the starter.
“Oh, you mustn’t go alone!” she called. “Let me go with you.”
“Not this time,” he answered grimly. “You go on to church if I’m not back.” He had not waited to finish; the car was moving; but a sturdy flying figure shot out of the door behind Cornelia, over the hedge, and caught on behind. Harry, with little to go by, had sensed what was in the air, and meant to be in at the finish. No, of course not; his adored Maxwell should not go alone to any place where Cornelia said “No” in that tone. He would go along.
Louise, white-faced and quiet, with little hands clasped at her throat, stood just behind her sister, watching the car shoot up the hill and out of sight.