“The books!” broke in Val. “Why was it so important for him to get the books back?”
“That’s what I don’t know,” she shook her head. “Perhaps he thinks they contain some clue to where the money is—but if that is so, why did he not take them long ago—I had them with me all that time?”
“Maybe it just occurred to him?” suggested Val. She nodded.
“You know, I was absolutely broke when you came in with that ten thousand dollars,” she said. “You see, father left practically nothing—as far as we could ascertain. I had to move out from the hotel where we lived—though he wanted me to stay there—and take a cheaper place. My cash got lower and lower. I could have got money from Ignace, but I wouldn’t take any of his money, of course. At last I went really bankrupt,” she smiled, “and there was nothing in the house for Elizabeth and me to eat. Elizabeth is the old woman who answered the door for you—she’s been with us for years, and she’s staying on, though she knows I have no money to pay her. I would have tried to sell some of my expensive clothes and furs,” she said, “but I’m trying to get on the stage and a wardrobe is a very handy thing to have. So I thought I’d get a little for the books—they’ve been around the house a long time and they really were a nuisance, you know. We never had much in the way of books in the house, because I was away all the time and my father was not much of a reader. So I had no bookcase, and they were in the way. I thought it would be a good time to get rid of them—and so stall Ignace off a little while longer—you see,” she said naïvely; “he wanted me to marry him right away, and if I was starving I would have had to do it. And then you
