“I might as well tell you now,” she said, “that I don’t believe they’ll pay any large sum. They’re not going to be very keen about me at home, since this elopement business.”
“Who’ll pay what sum?”
“The ransom,” she said, impatiently. “You don’t suppose I fell for all that patriotic stuff, do you?”
I could only stare at her in dumb rage.
“At first, of course,” she said, “I thought you were white slavers. But I’ve got it now. The other game is different. Oh, I may come from a small town, but I’m not unsophisticated. You people didn’t send my father those black hand letters he’s been getting lately, I suppose?”
“Tish!” I called sharply.
But Tish had stopped and was listening intently. Suddenly she said:
“Run!”
There was a sort of pounding noise somewhere behind, and Aggie screeched that it was the Knowleses’ bull loose on the road. I thought it quite likely, and as we had once had a very unpleasant time with it, spending the entire night in the Knowleses’ pig pen, with the animal putting his horns through the chinks every now and then, I dropped the suitcase and ran. Myrtle ran too, and we reached the farmhouse in safety.
It was then that we realized that the sound was the pursuing car, bumping along slowly on four flat tires. Tish shut and bolted the door, and as the windows were closed with wooden frames, nailed on, we were then in darkness. We could hear the runabout, however, thudding slowly up the drive, and the voices of Mr. Culver and the policeman as they tried the door and the window shutters.