line; "and we don't in the least know what to make of it. What on earth
could induce Brenda to run off like this, with no apparent object?"

"But how do you know she really has?" asked Anne. "You haven't told me
anything, yet, have you? I mean, she may have gone out into the Park to
get cool after the dance, or into the woods or anything. Why should you
imagine that she has--run away?"

I joined in the conversation, then, for the first time. I had not even
been introduced to Anne.

"That's very reasonable, surely, Jervaise," I said. "And wouldn't it--I
hardly know her, I'll admit--but wouldn't it be rather like your sister?"

So far as I was concerned, Anne's suggestion carried conviction. I was
suddenly sure that our suspicions were all a mistake.

Jervaise snubbed me with a brief glance of profoundest contempt. He
probably intended that commentary on my interruption to go no further; but
his confounded pose of superiority annoyed me to the pitch of
exasperation.

"You see, my dear chap," I continued quickly, "your unfortunate training
as a lawyer invariably leads you to suspect a crime; and you overlook the
obvious in your perfectly unreasonable and prejudiced search for the
incriminating."

Jervaise's expression admirably conveyed his complete boredom with me and
my speeches.