“Well, we’ve got to admit that Kimball Webb has been stolen. We’ll use that term as being more graphic than kidnapped or abducted. The former always connotes an infant, and the latter seems to me to imply a girl. Let’s say Mr. Webb has been stolen, and we’re out to get back the stolen goods. Now, what’s the reason he was stolen? It’s got to be an awful big reason, for the robber took awful big risks. And it’s a daring,—a stupendously daring stunt that he pulled off! He’s been planning it for a long time,—I say, he,—but if it turns out to be the Webb ladies, we’ll change our pronoun. Now, there’s no reason big enough but money. I’m prepared to stand by that statement. Love is a strong motive for lots of crimes,—but you don’t suspect any of your disappointed suitors, do you, Miss Powell?”
“No,” and Elsie smiled at his expression. “There are lots of them heartbroken, of course, but none that I can think would have inclination or ability to cut up such a trick.”
“Well, then, grant the reason is acquisition of money, somehow. Perhaps the reward is not big enough,—”
“Fifty thousand dollars!”
“Maybe the criminal is out for bigger loot. Who would benefit financially by the disappearance of Kimball Webb?”
“Nobody; he is not a rich man by any means,” Elsie informed him.
The mass of brown hair wagged wildly, as Coley Cole shook his head.
“Not from his estate,—the man isn’t dead. But supposing you, Miss Powell, stuck to your resolution not to marry any one else, thereby losing your aunt’s money, who would benefit?”
“Joe Allison!”
“Exactly. No, we’ve no definite reason to suspect Mr. Allison, we’ve no scrap of evidence against him, no clue to his guilt. But I shall stir up some sleeping dogs and see how they bark at him.”