"I saysh:
'What's use lookin' here? She--she isn't on top of any these tables,'
an' I--I knew you wassen unner 'em. You ain't--"
"Permit me," interrupted Odell-Carney with grave dignity. "Your friend,
Miss Fowler, is not in gaol. He is out--"
"Not in gaol!" she almost shrieked. "I knew it! I knew it could not go
wrong. But where is he?"
"He's out on bail. We bailed him out at half-past ten--Wot!" She had
leaped to her feet with a short scream and was clutching his arm
frantically.
"On bail? At half-past ten? Good heavens, then--then--oh, are you sure?"
"Poshtive, abs'lutely."
"Then what has become of my nine thousand crowns?"
"You c'n search me, Conshance," murmured Freddie.
"I don' know what you 're talkin' 'bout, Cons'ance," said Mr. Rodney in
a very hurt tone. "We--we put up security f'r five thous'n dollars,
that's what we did. This is all the thanks we getsh for it. Ungrachful!"
Constance had been thinking very hard, paying no heed to his maudlin
defence. It rapidly was dawning upon her that these men had secured her
lover's release on bail at half-past ten o'clock, an hour and a half
before she had given her bribe of nine thousand crowns to the gaoler.
That being the case, it was becoming clear to her that the wretch
deliberately had taken the money, knowing that Brock was not in the
prison, and with the plain design to rob her of the amount.
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