“There is no occasion for you to do either,” he replied. “You are in good hands. Stay here until the storm blows over. In all probability the madame has sent detectives out in all directions searching for you.”
Daisy was so young, so unsuspecting, so artless, and knew so little of the ways of the world or its intriguing people that she quite believed his assertion.
“Oh, what shall I do?” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, I must go back to Uncle John, and––to––to––”
Stanwick had no idea she meant Rex. He took it for granted she meant John Brooks and Septima.
“It is quite uncertain when John Brooks returns to Allendale,” he said; “and I suppose you are aware his sister has also left the place––gone, no one knows whither––the Brookses’ cottage on the brow of the hill stands empty.”
“Gone!” cried Daisy, catching her breath swift and hard, “did you say, sir? Aunt Septima has gone––no one lives in the cottage?” Poor Daisy quite believed she was losing her senses.
“Yes,” said Stanwick, smothering a low, malicious laugh, “that is what I said; but I am quite surprised that it is news to you. You are all alone in the world, you see. Of course you could not go back to Allendale. You can do no better than stay in your present quarters for at least a week or so, until you fully recover from your mad frolic on the water and gain a little strength.”
“Where am I?” asked Daisy, “and how did I get here? and who lives here?”