Beg pardon."
"I--I cannot go, gentlemen," she stammered. "Please don't insist--please
don't ask why. I cannot go--"
"I shay, Conshance, by Jove, the joke's on you," exclaimed Freddie. "I
know who 't ish you're waitin' f-for. Well, he can't come. He's locked
in."
"Freddie, you are drunk!" in deep scorn.
"I know it," he admitted cheerfully. "We've looked ever'where for you.
We're your frien's. He said it was at 'n eatin'-house. We've been ever'
eatin'-house in Inchbrook. Was here first of all. Leave it to Rodney.
Wassen we, Rodney? You bet we was. You wassen here at 'leven o'clock.
Come on home, Conshance. 'S all right. He's safe. He can't come."
"But he will come, unless something terrible has happened to him," she
almost sobbed in her desperation. "Cousin Alfred, _won't_ you go to the
gaol and see what has happened?"
Mr. Rodney took off his hat gallantly and would have gone to do her
bidding had not Mr. Odell-Carney laid a restraining grip upon his
shoulder.
"Let me explain, Miss F-Fowler. You shee--see, he told us you'd be here,
but, hang it all, you wassen here wh-when we came. Never give up, says I
to my frien's. We'll search till doomshday. I knew we'd find you if we
kep' on searching. Thash jus' wot I said to Roddy, didn' I, Roddy? We
mush have overlokked yo' when we were here at 'leven."
"I was not here at eleven," she cried breathlessly.
"Thash jus' what I tol' 'em," insisted Freddie triumphantly.
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