More for form’s sake than for anything else, they followed her upstairs and downstairs, from room to room, while she opened closet doors and bureau drawers and trunks, and bade them satisfy themselves.
“This is my niece’s sleeping room, and this her clothes-press,” she said, swinging wide the door of Elithe’s closet before the men were quite in the room behind her. “Lord of Heavens!” she exclaimed under her breath, as the first objects which met her view were the muddy boots and wet garments and crushed hat which Elithe had put there until she had a chance to dry them while her aunt was gone to market or shopping. She knew now that Elithe and not Mrs. Ralston was concerned in Paul’s escape, and she felt as if she were sinking to the floor. This would not do, and, with a mighty effort, she kept herself upright and, taking down some of Elithe’s dresses, dropped them over the pile of wet clothes. Then, with a sneer, she said: “Look in, gentlemen, and see for yourselves that he is not here hanging on the hooks.”
She made them look in, and made them look under the bed and followed them downstairs, telling them to call again if they did not find him, and asking if they had nothing better to do than hunt an innocent man.
“We are no more anxious to find him than you are,” they said, as they bade her good morning and started for the Ralston House. When they were gone, Miss Hansford sat down, more worried and perplexed than she had ever been in her life, and more conscience-stricken, too.
“I’m backslidin’ every day,” she thought. “Actually got so I swear,—for ‘Lord of Heavens’ is swearin’, spoke the way I spoke it. I couldn’t help it. I was so took back with what I saw and what I know. Mrs. Ralston up at the jail, enjoyin’ such poor health as she does! I might have knew it was Elithe. Where is she, I wonder?”
She found her in the kitchen, hovering over the few coals of fire still burning in the stove. She had staid outside until she saw the men leave, and then had come in by the same door through which she went out.
“Be you cold?” her aunt said to her.
“Yes, the weather has changed a good deal since yesterday,” Elithe answered, with a shiver, wondering if her aunt would detect the odor of witch hazel in which she had bathed her hand.
She did smell it, but was too much excited to think about it or care.
“I s’pose you took cold last night at the jail! Who was with you?” she asked.