“Very well then, how did he leave this room, and lock the door behind him, on the inside, leaving the key on in the lock?”
“On the inside?”
“Yes, on the inside, and bolted as well.”
“I don’t know, my dear, how he did it,—but Kimball can do anything!”
And with this comprehensive statement of her trust in her son’s omnipotence, the elder lady went downstairs again.
“My mother doesn’t take it all in,” said Miss Webb to Oscar, who was rapidly assuming the position of right hand man. “We must do something, I think; can you suggest anything?”
She looked at the young chauffeur with an air of command, whereupon he felt the immediate necessity of suggesting something,—however absurd.
“Shall I call the police, ma’am?” he said.
“No!” she cried. “What an idea! Of course not. My brother has not absconded!”
“But we ought, by rights, to do something,” Oscar went on.