“It would perhaps not be right to say that I have not the slightest inkling,” returned the Judge. “I see that something important has happened—some attempt on Bethany’s life or liberty, I imagine. I am in possession of not one detail.”
“Do you mean to say that no one told you about it?” said Mrs. Everest, incredulously. “Why did not some of those people explain to you? I depended on them. I was busy looking after the people myself, and I wanted to say a few words to the reporters. Some things we don’t want to get in the press. Why, where was Dallas? He knew all about it.”
“Here,” exclaimed a sudden voice, and the English boy pushed open the door and came in. He was red and flushed, and looked tired.
“If I haven’t had a dance after that firecracker!” he exclaimed. “What a beast of a boy! He was stealing right and left here, or trying to. I had to drag him with me wherever I went. First of all, he brought his wheel into the house by the back way and broke a stepladder and muddied a lot of clean clothes down in the lower hall. Thank fortune, he’s gone now. I’ve just escorted him to the corner of the first street.”
Mrs. Everest looked anxious. “I must hurry home and talk to him. But first to enlighten you, dear Judge. I shall begin at the first. Two weeks ago Barry Mafferty came to me in great anxiety. Now, this mustn’t be talked about. You boys will be careful not to say anything about him. Dear little Bethany is going to sleep,” and she threw a compassionate glance at the tired face against the Judge’s knee.
“You don’t wish Mafferty’s name mentioned in connection with the affair,” said the Judge, shrewdly.
“Not a murmur of it. You see, he used to be a miserable sort of a man, and now he is really reforming. Well, he said a man he knew to be a criminal was prowling about your house. He made up his mind—indeed, he had cause to do so—that the fellow had designs upon some one in your family. He decided that it was Bethany, for he found out that old Mr. Hittaker—”
She paused an instant for breath, as she was speaking very rapidly, and the Judge, with a faint gleam of amusement passing over his face, inquired, “Of Hittaker’s soap?”
“The same. Poor old man, he had lost his daughter, her husband, and her children. He hadn’t a relative in the world left but Bethany. Mafferty said that probably some nest of criminals had decided to steal Bethany, on the supposition that she would be made old Mr. Hittaker’s heiress, or, even if she weren’t, that you would be willing to pay a considerable sum to get her back.”
The Judge shook his head. “I don’t know how it is, but an impression has got out that I am worth a great deal more money than I really possess. I suppose it is because I stopped working when I thought I had enough, and because I spend what I have, instead of hoarding it.”