"And now," he went on,
"this is how I hope to proceed. We will go first to Washington,
and, if unsuccessful there, to Tempest Lodge. We will take Miss
Weeks with us, for I am sure that I could not, without some such
assistance, do justice to this young lady's comfort. If you have a
picture of Mr. Ostrander as he looks now, I hope you will take it,
Miss Scoville. With that and the clew to his intentions, which you
have given me, I have no doubt that we shall find him within the
week."
"But," objected Deborah, "if you know where to look for him, why
take the child? Why go yourself? Why not telegraph to these
places?"
His answer was a look, quick, sharp and enigmatical enough to
require explanation. He could not give it to her then, but later,
when Reuther had left them, he said:
"Men who fly their engagements and secrete themselves, with or
without a pretext, are not so easily reached. We shall have to
surprise Oliver Ostrander, in order to place his father's message
in his hands."
"You may be right. But Reuther? Can she stand the excitement--the
physical strain?"
"You have the harder task of the two, Mrs. Scoville. Leave the
little one to me. She shall not suffer."
Deborah's response was eloquent. It was only a look, but it made
his harsh features glow and his hard eye soften. Alanson Black had
waited long, but his day of romance had come--and possibly hers
also.
But his thoughts, if not his hopes, received a check when, with
every plan made and Miss Weeks, as well as Reuther, in trembling
anticipation of the journey, he encountered the triumphant figure
of Flannagan coming out of Police Headquarters.
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