Elsie read and re-read the missive.
She was uncertain what to do. Her impulse was to lay the whole matter before Whiting or Coleman Coe, and follow their advice.
But suppose they should say,—as so many people do,—make no bargains with the kidnappers. Treat any such communications with silent contempt,—or, arrange for police protection, even if it is forbidden.
The more she thought it over, the more she was inclined to manage the whole affair alone. She could do it,—and she was not afraid. It was all to be done in broad daylight, there was no danger if she herself acted in good faith. And if she brought any one else into it, there was grave danger, not only to herself but to Kimball.
She looked curiously at the card that had come in the letter.
It was an address on Broadway, and was evidently,—even to her inexperienced mind,—the office of a loan broker.
From him she could get the necessary money on the assurance of her nearby wedding and consequent inheritance. Arrangements had, of course, been made by the perpetrators of the crime against Kimball Webb. They must be a clever and powerful set,—they were so unafraid of anything or anybody. The thought of her restored lover and their wedding at last, so thrilled Elsie, that she began preparations at once.
She could scarcely control her impatience to get to the broker’s office.
Once there, she found indeed, that all had been arranged.
The affable Hebrew, who presided over the establishment, was confidentially minded, and was quite ready to advance the large sum required in return for Elsie’s signed promise to pay,—with exorbitant interest, the day after her marriage.