Grant smiled very gravely. “I think you had better take mine. If they found a lady’s handkerchief round my head, Allonby’s folks would wonder how it got there.”
Hetty did as he suggested, and felt a curious chagrin when he failed to look at her. “I used to wonder, Larry, how you were able to think of everything,” she said. “Now I have brought you something else; but you must promise not to hurt anybody belonging to Allonby with it.”
Grant laughed softly, partly to hide his astonishment, when he saw a pistol laid beside him.
“I haven’t grown bloodthirsty, Hetty,” he said. “Where did you get it?”
“It was Chris Allonby’s. Flo and I fooled him and took it away. It was so delightfully easy. But you will keep it?”
He shook his head. “Just try to think, Hetty.”
Hetty’s cheeks flushed. “You are horribly unkind. Can’t you take anything from me? Still—you—have got to think now. If I let you go, you will promise not to make any more trouble for my father and Allonby, or anybody?”
Grant only looked at her with an odd little smile, but the crimson grew deeper in Hetty’s cheek. “Oh, of course you couldn’t. I was sorry the last time I asked you,” she said. “Larry, you make me feel horribly mean; but you would not do anything that would hurt them, unless it was quite necessary?”
“No,” said the man drily, “I don’t think I’m going to have an opportunity.”
“You are. I came to let you go. It will be quite easy. Chris is quite foolish about Flo.”