Henrietta Webb paused as she saw the look that came over Elsie’s face.
“Don’t you propose to let him out in time to get married?” the girl cried. “Oh, Henrietta, how _can_ you be so cruel? I _know_ you’ve done this thing,—Kimball couldn’t disappear! Nor would he go away of his own accord. But you’ve had something up your sleeve for a long time,—I saw that you had,—only I never dreamed it was anything so heartless, so awful as to stop the wedding at the last minute! Why, it’s after twelve,—and the people will begin to go to the church soon after three. Please, Henrietta, own up now! Give him up! You know you can’t prevent the wedding,—you can only postpone it; and think of the trouble you’ll make!”
“Be quiet, Elsie,” said Miss Webb, a little alarmed at the girl’s excitement. “Tell her she’s all wrong, Mrs. Powell, won’t you?”
“I’m not sure she is,” said the dazed mother. “I can’t take it all in,—but it seems to me Elsie has hit on the only possible explanation of Kimball’s disappearance.”
“What _are_ you people talking about?” inquired a newcomer, and Elsie’s sister came into the room.
Gerty Seaman, widowed by the war and left with two tiny children, was one of those helpless, appealing women, who, having no self-reliance, lean upon any one who chances to be near.
“What is the matter? Where is your brother, Miss Webb? Tell me everything,—I refuse to be kept in the dark!”
But after hearing all there was to be told, Gerty took a light view of the situation.
“Nonsense, Elsie,” she said, “of course Miss Webb has nothing to do with it! It’s a joke of some of those horrid men! Some people love to do such things. They’ve kidnapped him for fun, and they’ll let him loose in time for the ceremony, but not much before.”
“I can’t think that,” said Henrietta, musing; “I don’t know all of Kimball’s friends, but those I do know are far above any such uncouth jests as that.”
“What _do_ you think, then?” asked Elsie, sharply.
“You know my mother’s hobby,—spiritualism. She thinks Kimball has been spirited away by supernatural powers.”
“What rubbish!” exclaimed Gerty. “But there’s small use in guessing at the truth. Something has happened,—I suppose there’s no chance that he has turned up at home since you left?”