“You would, eh? Interested, aren’t you? So damned interested that you go prowling around our house like a thief.”
This startled Judy so much that she could only gasp.
“What’d you want of my sister?” he demanded.
“I wanted to tell her about the poetry,” Judy answered quickly. “You see, it’s—it’s lost.”
“The deuce it is! Then how’s Emily Grimshaw going to help matters by coming over?”
“She may know where it is. She was, well—intoxicated when it disappeared.”
Jasper Crosby gave a dry chuckle. “Eh! heh! She can’t even stay sober at a funeral. I’ll be going now. Got to see a lawyer and sue the old lady for the loss of my sister’s manuscripts.”
“Oh, no! Wait a minute! Miss Grimshaw may have them. In fact, I’m almost sure she has,” Judy cried in a panic. Anything to stall him, keep him talking until help came.
“Then tell her to send ’em to the publishers and make it snappy! I’m going.”
Judy laid her hand firmly on his arm. “You’re not going, Mr. Crosby. You’re going to wait for Emily Grimshaw.”