“We don’t hear much that’s good about people—officially, you know.”
“Well, Arnold Todhunter says that Renata is supposed to have overheard something—something that her father’s associates think so important that they’re keeping her under lock and key, and seriously contemplating putting her out of the way altogether.”
“Did she overhear anything?” asked Henry, just as Jane had done.
“No one knows except Renata, and she won’t tell. Molloy goes back to the States to-morrow. They won’t let him take Renata with him, and Arnold Todhunter wants to marry her and carry her off to Bolivia, where he’s got an engineering job.”
“That appears to be a good scheme,” said Henry.
“Yes, but you see they’ll never let her go so long as they are not sure how much she knows. Arnold says she was walking in her sleep, and blundered in on about twenty-five of them, all talking the most deadly secrets. And they don’t know when she woke or what she heard. And”—Jane’s eyes began to dance a little—“Arnold has a perfectly splendid idea. He takes Renata to Bolivia, and I take Renata’s place. Nobody knows she has gone, so nobody looks for her.”
“What nonsense,” said Henry; then—“What’s this Todhunter like?”
“A mug,” said Jane briefly. She paused, and then went on in a different voice:
“Henry, who is at Luttrell Marches now? Did your Cousin Tony ever turn up?”
Henry stared at her.