And, yet, she didn’t blame herself utterly, for she had felt so sure that only by following instructions implicitly, could she accomplish her end.
She didn’t for a moment believe that some one had tricked her who knew nothing of Kimball Webb, for she had his own letter to disprove that. She concluded they had tricked him, too, and had forced him to write the note and then had cheated him as they had her.
Still, he might come home yet; the day might bring him or news of him.
But when the slow hours passed and morning melted into afternoon, poor Elsie gave up hope.
By the time Coe came in the evening, Elsie had decided to tell him the whole story, assuming that since the money was paid, it was now no breach of trust.
Coley Coe stared at her as she unfolded the surprising tale.
“You chump! You Easy Mark!” he cried, angrily, quite forgetting in his astonishment to whom he was speaking.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, as he noted her rising colour. “I oughtn’t to say such things,—but, oh, Miss Powell, how could you go off on such a wild-goose chase,—and a dangerous one, too?”
His thatch of hair bobbed wildly about in his excitement, and he clutched at it as if almost frenzied.
Then he calmed down, and looked at the thing squarely. His blue eyes seemed to grow darker as their concentrated gaze fell on Elsie’s troubled face.