“Did she write you a note?” asked Mrs. Powell.
“No; the word was brought by a man.”
“What sort of a man?”
“A decent appearing person, who said he was the chauffeur of Miss Powell’s friends with whom she had gone.”
“What did he look like?”
“Ordinary looking, like a servant, but respectful and well-mannered, and he had a great many gold filled teeth. Do you know him?”
“No; and I think there’s something wrong. Elsie never would have done such a thing. She hasn’t any friends down there with their car,—that I know of. Has she, mother?”
“No,” Mrs. Powell agreed. “There is something wrong.” She clasped her hands nervously. “Do send for Mr. Coe, Gerty.”
Coley Coe came on the jump, and listened to the tale with a grave face.
“I should say there was!” he exclaimed, “something very wrong! That girl has been kidnapped and the villains mean to keep her till after her birthday! I’ve been fearing some such performance, but I thought she was safe with the nurse.”