“And Mr. Croyden?” Davila queried. “How about him?”
“He will surrender, too. All his theoretical notions of relative wealth will be forgotten. I’ve only to wait for rescue or release. On the whole, Davila, I’m quite satisfied with being abducted. Moreover, it is an experience which doesn’t come to every girl.” She looked at her friend quizzically. “What are you going to do about Colin? I rather think you should have an answer ready; the circumstances are apt to make him rather precipitate.”
The next morning after breakfast, which was served in their rooms, Elaine was looking out through the bars on her window, trying to get some notion of the country, when she saw, what she took to be, the chief abductor approaching. He was a tall, well-dressed man of middle age, with the outward appearance of a gentleman. She looked at him a moment, then rang for the maid.
“I should like to have a word with the man who just came in,” she said.
“I will tell him, Miss.”
He appeared almost immediately, an inquiring look on his face.
“How can I serve you, Miss Cavendish?” he said, deferentially.
“By permitting us to go out for some air—these 295 rooms were not designed, apparently, for permanent residence.”
“It can be arranged,” he answered. “When do you wish to go?”
“At once!”