"Crazy?" asked Jo, her eyes intent upon her mother's face.
"I don't know as to that. But the fact remains that Simmer was clever, or crafty, enough to find out for himself some of the secrets of the business that your father has kept carefully guarded from every one else."
"Did he take much money?" Jo asked breathlessly.
"I was coming to that." There was something of rebuke in Mrs. Morley's tone. "He found out—how, nobody knows—the combination of the office safe. After that it was an easy matter to take what he could find of negotiable paper and money and decamp with it."
"He's gone, then? Run away?" cried Jo.
"Disappeared overnight, leaving no trace behind him," returned Mrs. Morley, distress again clouding the usual good nature of her face. "Your father has notified the police, of course, and set detectives on his trail; but so far without result. It actually looks as if the earth had opened and swallowed him up."
"Which of course it hasn't," muttered Jo, thinking her thought aloud.
"What did you say, dear," queried Mrs. Morley.
"I was just wondering," Jo returned vaguely. "Andrew Simmer must be somewhere, and since that's true, the detectives are sure to find him sooner or later."
"Probably later," returned her mother pessimistically. "And so much later that it won't do your father much good. He will be hopelessly ruined long before that time."