“Well, curse him for a nuisance, and you for a bungler!”
“Mind, I’ve got that letter!” snarled Corrie.
“You’d never use it? . . . However, I may tell you that I’ve completed my arrangements for the capture of Miss Kitty.”
“And what may they be?”
“I think I’d better not tell you. You’re so tender-hearted!”
A grey shadow came over Corrie’s face. “Is—is it going to hurt her?” he whispered. “I canna consent to her being hurt—seriously.”
Symington laughed shortly. “You think I’d hurt Kitty, do you? Sometimes I fancy you’re a bit cracked, Corrie! Well, I must admit it’s going to be a little unpleasant, inconvenient, for her—but nothing worse. She’s going to disappear for a time—”
“Where?”
“You’re better not to know in case you’re asked—see?”
The postmaster plucked at his lower lip. “Maybe,” he mumbled, “maybe.”