When he entered the boy’s room Floyd was lying flat on his back, staring fixedly at Miss Shellington, who was deciphering the letter for him.  She ceased reading when her brother appeared.

“Horace,” she said, rising, “Floyd says he doesn’t believe that Fledra went of her own free will.  He thinks she was forced in some way.”

Horace stooped and looked into the boy’s white face, at the same time taking Fledra’s letter from Ann.

“Flea can’t make me think, Brother Horace,” said Flukey, “that she went ’cause she wanted to.  Pappy Lon made her go, I bet!  There’s something we don’t know.  I want you to take me up there to Ithaca, and when I get there I can find her.  Prayin’ won’t keep her from Lem.  We’ve got to do something.”

Horace shot a glance of inquiry at his sister.

“We prayed every morning, Dear,” she said simply, “that our little girl might be protected from harm.”

“She shall be protected, and I will protect her!  Where’s the deputy?”

“They called him away the morning Fledra left.”

“May I read your letter, Floyd?”

“Sure!” replied the boy wearily.

Shellington’s eyes sought the paper in his hand: 

     “Floyd love.—­

“I’m going away, but I will love you every day I live.  Floyd, could you ask Sister Ann to pray for everyone—­me, too?  Forgive me for taking Snatchet—­I wanted him awfully.  You be good to Sister Ann and always love Brother Horace and mind every word he says.  I’m going away because I want to.  Remember that, Floyd dear, goodby.

     “Fledra.”

After finishing the letter, Horace said to Ann, “I must see Brimbecomb at once.”  And he turned abruptly and went out.  Ann followed him hurriedly.

“Horace, dear, you won’t quarrel with him, for my sake.”

“Not unless he had a hand in taking her away.  God!  I’m so troubled I can’t think.”

Ann watched him go to the telephone; then, with a premonition of even greater coming evil, she crept back to Floyd.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

When Horace ushered Brimbecomb into his home, so firm was his belief that the young lawyer had been instrumental in removing Fledra that he restrained himself with difficulty from wringing a confession from the man by violence.  For many moments he could not bring himself to broach the subject of which his mind was so full.  Everett, however, soon led to the disappearance of the girl.

“I’m glad you telephoned me so soon after your arrival,” said Brimbecomb.  “I was just starting for the station.  If you hadn’t, I shouldn’t have seen you.  I had something to say to you.”

“And I have something to say to you,” said Horace, his eyes steadily leveled at the man before him.  “Where is Fledra Cronk?”

Everett’s confidence gave him a power that was not to be daunted by this direct question.