Gregory muttered, "Who would believe you?"
Fran looked at him. "Then" she said, "the coward spoke." She added, "I guess the only way is for you to make her leave. There's nothing in her for me to appeal to."
"I will never tell her to go," he assured her defiantly.
"While, on the contrary," said Grace, "I fancy you will be put to flight in three or four days."
Fran threw back her head and laughed silently while they stared at her in blank perplexity.
Fran regained composure to say coolly, "I was just laughing." Then she stepped to her father's chair and handed him the sheet she had drawn from the typewriter. The upper part was an unfinished letter to the Chicago mission, just as Grace had left it in her haste to get rid of Fran. At odd variance with its philanthropic message were the words Fran had pounded out for the deception of Mrs. Gregory.
Hamilton Gregory glared at them at first uncomprehendingly, then in growing amazement. They read—
"Ask her why she sent Bob Clinton to Springfield."
He started up. "What is this?" he exclaimed wildly, extending the paper toward Grace.
She read it, and smiled coldly. "Yes," she said, "the little spy has even ferreted that out, has she! Very well, she won't be so cool when Mr. Clinton returns from Springfield."