"There!" said the girl. "Don't let's talk about it any longer. After what you've told me.... Well, it's all over now!"
P. Sybarite pondered this in manifest doubt.
"Are you sure?" he queried with his head thoughtfully to one side.
"Am I sure?" she repeated, puzzled. "Rather! I tell you, I've finished with the Shaynons for good and all. I never liked either of them—never understood what father saw in old Mr. Shaynon to make him trust him the way he did. And now, after what has happened ... I shall stop at the Plaza to-night—they know me there—and telephone for my things. If Mr. Shaynon objects, I'll see if the law won't relieve me of his guardianship."
"If you'll take a fool's advice, you'll do that, whether or no. An uneasy conscience is a fine young traitor to its possessor, as a rule."
"Now, what can you mean by that?"
"I don't believe there's been any whisper of suspicion that the Shaynons had caused you to be spirited away."
"Then why did Bayard say—"
"Because he was thinking about it! The unconscious self-betrayal of the unskilled but potential criminal."
"Oh!" cried the girl in horror. "I don't think that—"