She ran up the stairs, and found Fenn Whiting in the sitting room back of Kimball’s room.
“Oh, Fenn,” cried Elsie, “I’m so glad you’re here! What does it all mean?”
“There’s no explanation, Elsie; I’m crazy with trying to think it out.”
“Is it a joke by some of the men?”
“That’s one notion,—but an absurd one, I think. And, anyway, it all comes back to this. Whatever the reason of his disappearance, whatever the cause, how was it accomplished? You see yourself,” they had now reached the door of Kimball’s room, “there’s no way out of this room but by this hall door, and that was locked on the inside.”
“So they say!”
“Oh, it was. The servants say so, and look at this broken lock. Yes, that’s a true bill. You mustn’t suspect the Webbs, Elsie; it won’t do.”
“I’ll suspect anybody you can suggest, if there’s the slightest reason.”
“That’s just it,—I can’t suggest anybody. But what are you going to do? You must decide—”
“First, I want to look around the room. Here’s his watch on the chiffonier—”