“No, indeed,” and Miss Rebekah sped upstairs as Duncan opened the front door.
Barely glancing at the children and nurses in the park, he strode through Franklin Square and along K Street absorbed in dismal reflections. After discovering Marjorie’s disappearance from the drug store that morning, he had returned at once to his home deeply puzzled by her behavior. On his arrival his father had called him into the library and recounted the charge made against Marjorie by the Calhoun-Coopers, Janet’s damning testimony, and Marjorie’s flight. He had listened in stony silence, refusing to make any comment, and after luncheon had retired to his room. Harassed by conflicting theories, he finally rebelled against submitting longer to discouraging idleness, and seizing the telephone, had sent an urgent message to Paul Potter to meet him at the Metropolitan Club and go with him to Madame Yvonett’s. He felt an overwhelming desire to see Marjorie, to make her face the issue squarely and refute, if she could, the damning evidence against her. Anything was better than the uncertainty he was undergoing.
Duncan stopped dead in his tracks. Should he go to the police and report Marjorie’s disappearance? Pshaw! he was a fool; the girl could have come to no harm in broad daylight in peaceful Washington. She was probably sitting in some hotel, or walking the streets trying to make up her mind to go home and tell Madame Yvonett that she had been accused of being a thief. Surely any girl might be excused for putting off breaking such a piece of news to a delicate old lady? And yet, would it not be natural for her to rush to a near and dearly-loved relative for consolation and advice? Duncan shook his head in deep bewilderment. Flight was usually tacit admission of guilt. He was so deep in thought that he never observed an older man approaching down the street who, on seeing him, quickened his footsteps.
“Well, Duncan,” and Admiral Lawrence paused in front of him. “So you received my note.”
“Note?” Duncan shook his head. “No, sir, I’ve had no note from you.”
“Oh, I thought you were on your way to see me in answer to it,” replied the Admiral thoughtfully. “I have filed suit to break the will.”
“You are very unwise, sir,” Duncan’s eyes expressed his indignation.
“That remains to be seen. Do you still propose to defend Miss Langdon?”
“I do,” with quiet finality. “Who is residuary legatee?”
“I am.”