“But it ought to! The very fact that the conditions are ridiculous,—inexplicable,—ought to make it easier to get up a theory. If he had gone away in a business suit and carried his night things in a bag, it would be easily believed he had suddenly been called on some important matter. But to go off with evening clothes and no other suit is so ridiculous, that it ought to point to some inevitable conclusion,—even if not a definite one!”
“My! You sure are a thinker, Miss Powell! But,—let’s hear that indefinite conclusion you’d draw from the facts!”
“I haven’t drawn it yet,—but I shall,—and, I want you to help me.”
Elsie’s appealing smile brought a hearty “Sure I will, miss!” and after some further futile looking about, they both went downstairs.
Elsie waylaid the chambermaid, and stepped aside to speak with her.
“Did you do up Mr. Webb’s room yesterday?” she asked, with an ingratiating glance.
“Yes, miss,” replied the girl, a bit frightened.
“That’s all right; only, tell me, did you notice those white marks on the carpet?”
“I did, ma’am,—and I tried hard to get it all off? Did I leave any sign of it?”
“No; I wish you had! But never mind. What do you think made those marks?”