“Queer? It’s impossible!”
“Impossible or not, he did it! Or, that is to say, all we know is that he’s missing, and he disappeared, leaving the room securely fastened.”
“I don’t understand.” Elsie became suddenly very grave and sat down beside her guest. “How can what you tell me be true?”
“I can give no explanation,—I simply state the facts.”
Henrietta Webb looked coldly at the girl now; perhaps because Elsie was looking very sternly at her.
“May I ask,—would you mind—stating them again?”
Patiently, Miss Webb repeated what she had told, and amplified it until she had described the entire episode of entering her brother’s room by force. She told, too, of calling Fenn Whiting, and of his suggestion of a practical joke.
“Not at all,” said Elsie, decidedly. Her cheeks showed a redder flush, her eyes were very bright, and though she repressed it, she was trembling with excitement.
“May I call my mother?” she said, at last, in firm, even tones. “Will you tell this to her?”
She left the room and returned immediately with her mother.