“That’s what father thinks. If he had stolen the President of the United States, it wouldn’t have stirred up a bigger fuss. Newspaper men and detectives are hurrying here from all directions. They are sure to catch him.”
“Are they?”
She noticed a curious, derisive contempt in the man’s voice, and laid it to his vanity. “I don’t mean that they are. I mean that you are sure to get him,” she hastened to add. “Father thinks you are wonderful.”
“I’m much obliged to him,” said the man, with almost a sneer.
He seemed to have so good an opinion of himself that he was above praise even. Melissy was coming to the decision that she did not like him—which 221 was disappointing, since she had expected to like him immensely.
“I didn’t look for you till night. You wired you would be on number seven,” she said. “I understood that was the earliest you could get here.”
His explanation of the change was brief, and invited no further discussion. “I found I could make an earlier train.”
“I’m glad you could. Father says it is always well to start on the trail while it is fresh.”
“Have you ever seen this MacQueen, Miss Lee?” he asked.
“Not unless he was there when Mr. West was kidnapped.”