“Then whoever has taken them since could not have got very far away with them in this short time,” she went on reassuringly. “Your husband’s invention—if indeed it was his model the girls found here—must still be in this neighborhood, perhaps in this very building. Though who,” she added thoughtfully, “in this place could wish to steal such a thing is indeed a mystery.”
“Oh, Miss Walters!” cried Billie eagerly, “I’m sure nobody here in the Hall has stolen the invention. Nobody would have any use for it, and besides, it isn’t a thing that could be hidden very easily.”
Suddenly Laura had what she thought was a bright idea.
“Maybe somebody stole it who had a grudge against Mrs. Haddon,” she suggested.
Miss Walters looked inquiringly at the woman who had drawn away from her embrace and was wiping her eyes resignedly.
“Is there any one you know of who might hold a grudge against your family?” Miss Walters asked.
Mrs. Haddon went over to one of the dust-begrimed windows and stood there for a moment looking out, her fingers tapping a restless tattoo on the windowpane. Then she slowly shook her head.
“No, I can’t think of any one,” she said, adding bitterly: “We were too poor and unimportant to make enemies of any one. But what does it matter?” She turned quickly from the window with one of her fierce changes of mood. “The invention is gone. I was a fool to think that any good fortune would ever come to me. Let me go home.”
She brushed fiercely past Miss Walters, but the latter put out a gentle hand and detained her.
“Wait a little,” she begged. Her heart ached for the other woman’s suffering. “Come into my office with me while I make inquiries and find out if any suspicious person has been seen about here lately. I am confident,” she added with an assurance that reached the other woman, “that before long we shall be able to recover your property. Will you trust me and believe that I want to help you?”