The Colonel surreptitiously wiped away a couple of tears, and then patted the top of Mary Louise’s head.
“There, there, lassie,” he said quietly, as Mary Louise continued to burrow her head in his shoulder; “we have you safe and sound again.”
Then turning sternly to Danny, who stood rather white and very much mud-bespattered, he said, “What have you to say for yourself, young man?”
Mary Louise’s head came up with a jerk. All through this silent drive at Danny’s side she had been revolving in her thoughts just what she would say to clear Danny and turn suspicion from his uncle. Her testing time had come sooner than she expected, but she was ready. She stepped between Danny Dexter and her grandfather as though to protect the former.
As she did so, a fleeting vision crossed her mind of the broken old man out somewhere in the night. Had he caught his west-bound train? She wished she knew the answer.
“Grandpa Jim,” she said, distinctly and without effort, “let me tell you all about it; for I’m the one that Danny saved.”
As she spoke they all gathered around her in the road, regardless, in fact, unconscious, of the mud and wet. Josie drew nearest and slipped her arm through Mary Louise’s, as she talked.
“I couldn’t sleep when I went upstairs to-night,” continued Mary Louise, “so I sat at the window and finally went into the garden. There I saw a light in the garage, and thinking that my car was safe I ran toward it. As I reached the door a very tall, dark man jumped out and told me to keep quiet. When I started to scream he put his hand over my mouth and lifted me into the car and started off.
“The next thing I knew Danny jumped out from the roadside onto the running board. The big, dark man didn’t seem to want to fight, just to get away. Putting on the brake he jumped out and ran off in the dark,—that way,” added Mary Louise, and waved a hand indefinitely eastward.
At this point Crocker and Lonsdale lost all interest in the tale of Mary Louise. Their man was escaping east on foot.