“Right-o!” answered a cheery voice, and from the Ford stepped Will White.
As Danny leaped over the railing and disappeared into the night Josie rushed into the hall and up the stairs. Pausing only for a quick knock, she flung open the door of Grandpa Jim’s room, awakening that worthy old gentleman with the startling announcement, “Mary Louise isn’t here!”
“What’s that? Mary Louise gone?”
The realization that his beloved grandchild was in danger waked him wide in an instant. Telling Josie to scamper, he was out of bed and dressed in three minutes by the clock. Josie was but two minutes later than he, which was very quick time for a girl detective.
They met in the library in front of the ashes of the little fire that Mary Louise had kindled so happily the evening before. Grandpa Jim was almost as gray as the ashes, and a great fear was in his eyes as Josie told of hearing the auto and meeting Danny.
“We must telephone for Lonsdale at once, and you’d better ring up Crocker, too,” he said, “for if Danny is innocent of this, our Mary Louise must be in the hands of this O’Hara. Ransom, I suppose.”
The Colonel walked restlessly up and down the room while Josie telephoned. He was still pacing about when she returned to tell him: “They’ll both be here in a jiffy, Grandpa Jim. Lonsdale is bringing his car, and we’ll all go along. Why, they just can’t escape us!”
The old man patted the head of the young girl tenderly. He knew she was trying to give him courage, and indeed she was the picture of pluck as she stood there, her scarlet cheeks reflecting the scarlet Tam o’ Shanter she had carelessly pulled down about her hair. So they stood together as the minutes ticked away, the clock-hands seeming to move with infinite weariness. Finally with a slight ring of the bell the door opened and admitted Lonsdale, the local Chief, and Crocker, the detective from Boston.