“I do,—indeed I do, Elsie! For, my dear child, what other explanation is there?”
Mrs. Webb’s triumphant air impressed her hearers, even though it amused them. The trusting soul believed so implicitly in her creed that one must respect her sincerity, at least.
“Who lives next door?” asked Hanley, suddenly.
“Which side?” asked Mrs. Webb. “On the left, is the home of Owen Thorne, the banker; and on the other side, the Marsden St. Johns live. They’re at Lakewood just now; they’re always there in the spring. But they don’t own the house they live in. It’s Mr. Whiting’s. Part of the estate his father left him.”
“Are the Thorne family at home?”
“Yes, so far as I know. They were there yesterday. Why?”
“I only wondered if any of the neighbors saw Mr. Webb leave this house during the night.”
“Maybe he hasn’t left it,” put in Elsie.
“He must have done so. He couldn’t be concealed here against his will all this time, and you won’t allow that he’s willingly absent.”
“Of course I won’t!”