He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh. Hetty, looking out of the window—she always smoked her after-breakfast cigarette at the window for the benefit of the less advanced section of Morningside Park society—and trying not to raise objections, saw Miss Stanley going down toward the shops. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. But who would pay the ransom? There was no one left in his family. Running his hand hastily over it, he was startled to find it one complicated mass of bolts and bars. “You see you do not know how much of truth there is in his story. ‘That I do not yet know. Her confession was still unmade. She laughed. And, whatever you may think, I assure you, Jack's a downright goodnatured fellow.
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