“I came to see Mr. Courtney,” Elsie said, briefly, looking about.
“Here I am, Miss Powell,” and Wallace Courtney came in from the next room.
“I was told you were here,—in hiding!” Elsie exclaimed, excitedly.
“In retreat, not in hiding,” Courtney corrected her. “I am exceedingly busy, and in order to work uninterruptedly, I’ve set up an office in this house, and Miss Lloyd is helping me.”
“But you’re Mr. Webb’s stenographer,” and Elsie turned on the girl.
“I know it, Miss Powell,” she said, good-naturedly, “but Mr. Webb is away, and nobody knows when he’ll come back, so I thought I had a right to take another position.”
“Of course she has,” defended Courtney. “But tell me, Miss Powell, have you any news of the missing man?”
“How can I have, unless you give it to me?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that I think you are in some way responsible for his disappearance! I think you feared his play would clash with your own, and in some clever manner you contrived to hide him somewhere until too late to interfere with you.”