“How?” cried Elsie, looking scornful.
“Never mind that side of it for the moment, Miss Powell,” Coley Coe shook his forelock at her and smiled. “I’m going to find out the manner of the exit, but first I want to find the guilty man.”
“The guilty man is a woman,” Mrs. Powell persisted, “two women, in fact.”
A blue-eyed smile from Coe quieted her, and Gerty went on, “I know Wallace Courtney pretty well, and he’s a man who, with all his quiet ways is a firebrand at heart. If he wants a thing, everything else must give way. He is unconventional and lawless. He cares nothing for appearances,—why, look at him! He’s practically living with Lulie Lloyd,—”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Elsie broke in, “he merely took rooms in that same house, to be quiet for his work and to have the services of Lulie. I went there, you know. Mrs. Lloyd lives with Lulie,—and, too, there’s nothing that interests Wallace Courtney but his play. He is bound up in it, and, as Gerty says, he would sacrifice everything,—his reputation, or Lulie’s either,—if it would help him along with his work.”
“That’s right,” Coley agreed; “I’ve looked up the Courtney side of the case, and it’s all as Miss Powell says. I don’t trust the fair Lulie, though,—do you?” and he looked at Elsie.
“No, I don’t. She adores Wallace, and I know she’ll tell him a whole lot of points from Kim’s play, which Mr. Courtney will use in his own. But I don’t care, if we can only get Kim back,—his play can go into the discard.”
“That’s the talk! Now, Miss Powell, who’s your suspect?”
“I’m of a divided opinion, between the Webbs and Mr. Courtney. And sometimes,—I don’t think it could have been either of them.”
“Spooks, then?”