Penny waited anxiously, but Mrs. Kippenberg did not come to the outside door. Nor had it occurred to the two servants that the girl was connected in any way with the photographer.
“On my own,” she repeated to herself. “On my own with a vengeance.”
Salt had his picture and it was up to her to get a good story. Until now she had depended upon his guidance. With all support withdrawn she suddenly felt uncertain and incompetent.
Penny waited a few minutes before gathering sufficient courage to enter the long hallway. One glance assured her that the breakfast room was deserted.
“Mrs. Kippenberg probably went upstairs to talk with her daughter,” she reasoned. “I’d like to hear what they say to each other.”
With the guests assembled in the garden, only a few persons lingered in the house. No one paid heed to Penny as she moved noiselessly up the spiral stairway.
A bedroom door stood slightly ajar. Hearing a low murmur of voices, Penny paused. Framed against the leaded windows she saw Sylvia Kippenberg talking with her mother. Despite a tear-streaked face the girl was very lovely. She wore a long flowing gown of white satin and the flowers at the neckline were outlined with real pearls. Her net veil had been discarded. A bouquet of flowers lay on the floor.
“How could Grant do such a cruel thing?” Penny heard her sob. “I just can’t believe it of him, Mother. Surely he will come.”
Mrs. Kippenberg held the girl in her arms, trying to comfort her.
“It is nearly three now, Sylvia. The servants have searched everywhere. A man of his type isn’t worthy of you.”