Without, for a moment, comprehending the drift of Dorothy's fears, Garrison led her to a parlor of the house, looking at her in a manner so fixed that she realized their troubles were not confined to the loss of her certificate.
"What do you think? What do you fear? There isn't anything else?" she said, as he still remained dumb for a moment. "What shall we do?"
"Theodore threatened that something might occur," he said. "He has evidently done his worst, all at once."
"Why—but I thought perhaps my certificate was stolen here," whispered
Dorothy in agitation. "How could Theodore——"
"No one in this house could have known you had such a document about you," interrupted Garrison. "While you were drugged, or chloroformed, in the Robinsons' house, the old woman, doubtless, searched you thoroughly. You told me your certificate was sewed inside——"
"Inside—yes, inside," she interrupted. "I thought it was safe, for they put a blank paper in its place, and I might not have thought of anything wrong if I had not discovered a black thread used instead of the white silk I had been so careful to employ."
"There is ample proof that Theodore has utilized his wits to good advantage," he said. "Your marriage-certificate episode is only a part of what he has achieved. This paper contains all the story—suggesting that your uncle may have been murdered, and telling the conditions of the will."
He held up the paper before her startled eyes, and saw the look of alarm that came upon her.
"Printed—in the paper!" she exclaimed in astonishment and utter dismay. "Why, how could such a thing happen?"
She took the paper and scanned the story hurriedly, making exclamations as she read.