Carshaw was certainly “interested” now.
“Winifred! My Winifred!” he cried, grasping the detective’s shoulder in his excitement.
“Tut, tut!” grinned Clancy. “Guess the story’s beginning to grip. Yes. Winifred is ‘the image of her mother,’ said Voles. She must be ‘taken away from New York.’ Why? Why did this same Ralph vanish from Vermont after her father’s death ‘by accident’? Why does a wealthy and influential Senator join in the plot against her, invoking the aid of your mother and of Mrs. Tower? These are questions to be asked, but not yet. First, you must get back your Winifred, Carshaw, and take care that you keep her when you get her.”
“But how? Tell me how to find her!” came the fierce demand.
“If you jump at me like that I’ll make you stop here another week,” said Clancy. “Man alive, I hate humbug as much as any man; but don’t you see that the Bureau must make sure of its case before it acts? We can’t go before a judge until we have better evidence than the vague hearsay of twenty years ago. But, for goodness’ sake, next time you grab Winifred, rush her to the nearest clergyman and make her Mrs. Carshaw, Jr. That’ll help a lot. Leave me to get the Senator and the rest of the bunch. Now, if you’ll be good, I’ll show you the house where your Winifred was born!”
CHAPTER XX
IN THE TOILS
East Orange seemed to be a long way from New York when Winifred hastened to the appointment at “Gateway House,” traveling thither by way of the Tube and the Lackawanna Railway.