“Elsie dear,” begged Gerty, “don’t let’s talk any more about it tonight.”
“Yes, I will; I’ve been listening to you two, and as Fenn is going over to the Webbs’ now, and he will see the police there, I suppose, I want him to know just where I stand. I shall make it my work,—my life work, if necessary,—to find Kimball. I know, as well as I know my own name, that he was taken away by force. I won’t say who I think did it, or was responsible for the deed, but I shall get him back! The police can go ahead, let them do all they can,—it won’t be much. The abduction of Kimball Webb,—for it is an abduction,—was a carefully planned, cleverly carried out scheme. I won’t say who’s at the bottom of it,—but I know.”
“You mean the Webbs,” said Gerty sagaciously.
“It’s an awful thing to say,” Elsie admitted, “but I do mean the Webbs. Who else could it be? That joke business is nonsense,—and besides the jokers would have restored him in time for the wedding. They wouldn’t be so cruel to me.”
“No; they wouldn’t,” agreed Whiting. “But, be careful, Elsie, how you accuse the Webbs. You don’t want to get into deeper trouble than—”
“I can’t be in deeper trouble than I am now! You know that, Fenn. But I’ve got sense enough to know better than to accuse the Webbs openly! I know that would be the very way to spike my own guns! No, Miss Henrietta Webb is a very clever schemer, but I’ll outwit her yet!”
“And if not?” said Gerty, alarmed at the possibilities crowding her mind.
“If not, if Kimball Webb is never restored to me, I shall live and die an old maid,—just as Aunt Elizabeth did.”
“But, Elsie,” Gerty cried, “think of mother! think of me, and the children! Surely, you have some generosity, some loyalty to your people?”
“Not to the extent of selling myself for them,” said Elsie, sternly. “If anybody in this family is to marry for money, you can do it, Gerty. You have several rich suitors, to my certain knowledge—”