“Oh, wait a minute, Miss Powell,” Courtney broke in; “cut out the dramatics. Miss Lloyd is a stenographer, and she has a right to work for any one she chooses. If her previous employer returns and calls her to account for taking another position, that’s one thing. But until he does so, no one else has a right to question her course.”
“That’s right, Miss Powell,” said Lulie Lloyd. “But, anyway, don’t you fear I’ll do anything wrong. As Mr. Courtney says, anything I can tell him regarding Mr. Webb’s play is by way of caution against plagiarism, not the means of bringing it about.”
“I don’t believe a word of that!” and Elsie’s little nose went up scornfully. “I know perfectly well Mr. Courtney will use the best of Mr. Webb’s ideas, and will so change and rewrite them that he can claim them as his own. I may be baffled but I’m not fooled!”
The brown eyes swept coldly over the flushed face of the stenographer and then turned again to Courtney.
“I’ve no desire to discuss the matter further,” Elsie said, calmly, “but I can tell you, Mr. Wallace Courtney, you’ll be sorry for what you have done. This is not the age of bandits and pirates! Citizens cannot be secretly taken from their homes with impunity! You are the man with the motive for desiring the disappearance of Kimball Webb, and so you are the man who brought about that disappearance. And I shall see to it that you get your just deserts.”
Elsie turned on her heel, and started for the door.
“Just a moment, Miss Powell,” said Courtney, and she turned.
“Do listen to me, for your own sake,” he urged; “I didn’t steal your lover away from you,—but, though you will doubtless scorn it, I’d like to give you a hint.”
“You can’t divert my attention from you in that way!” Elsie declared, but she waited for further words.
“I daresay not; still, it ought to interest you to know that Kimball was looking for something queer to happen.”