“No, I don’t,” Miss Hansford replied, bristling at once. “Have you come with a writ to search my house? If so, go ahead, and when you are through, I’ll take you by the scruff of your neck and pitch you down the steps.”
“Easy, easy,” Max said, good-humoredly. “I hain’t no writ. I only wanted to warn you that they was goin’ to search Miss Percy’s and your house, and the Ralston’s, as the three most likely places where he’d be hid. I didn’t want you to be took unawares, if he happened to be here.”
“He ain’t here, I tell you,” Miss Hansford said, and Max rejoined: “Of course he ain’t. He ain’t nowheres, and I hope he’ll stay there. I’d help get him off the island, I do believe. Where’s Miss Elithe?”
“Bed and asleep; all wore out,” was Miss Hansford’s reply.
“Should s’pose she would be. ’Twas awful the way they put her through yestiddy. Well, I must go over to the Ralston’s. Good day!”
He nodded and went out, and, shaking like a leaf, Miss Hansford watched him taking the path through the woods to the Ralston House. That Elithe had had anything to do with Paul’s escape she had no suspicion. It was natural that she should sleep late and look white and scared when she at last came down stairs and was told what had happened. Miss Hansford was washing her dishes and did not look closely at Elithe as she repeated what Max had said of the bars pushed out of place and the twisted one with blood upon it,—the marks of fingers on the window sill, and the footprints,—one a man’s, presumably Tom’s; the other a woman’s,—presumably Mrs. Ralston’s.
“Oh-h! Mrs. Ralston’s!” Elithe exclaimed, closing her right hand, in the inside of which was the cut she had received on the sharp point of the iron bar.
Once she thought to tell her aunt everything, then decided to await developments. She was glad suspicion had fallen upon Mrs. Ralston rather than upon herself, and wondered how that frail woman would have come through the fearful storm. She did not want to talk and kept out of her aunt’s way as much as possible, and when, towards noon, she saw three men coming up the walk and guessed their errand. She quietly slipped through the back door and left her aunt to receive her visitors alone. Very few of the islanders had expressed themselves as freely as Max, but there was a general feeling of gladness that Paul had escaped, and a hope that he would not be recaptured. Still, the law must be “vin-di-ca-ted,” and a search, or the semblance of one, made for him. There were only three places where he was at all likely to have taken refuge,—Mrs. Percy’s, Miss Hansford’s, and his own home. That he was at the latter place was probable, but it was thought best to begin with Mrs. Percy. They told her why they had come, apologizing for their errand on the plea of its advisability in order to make it easier for other places to be visited. Mrs. Percy had heard of Paul’s escape and resented the idea that he was in her cottage; but she made no objection to their going over the house and into the room where Clarice was again on the verge of hysterics at the new phase matters had assumed.
Paul was not there, and Miss Hansford was next called upon. They found her furious, but resolute.
“Come to look for Paul, have you?” she said. “Well, hunt away, and I’ll help you.”