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"Hello!" I said. "Couldn't you find her?"
"Yes, I found her," he replied, with one of those bitter, hollow
laughs.
"Well, then----?"
Freddie sank into a chair and groaned.
"This isn't her cousin, you idiot!" he said.
"He's no relation at all. He's just a kid she happened to meet on the
beach. She had never seen him before in her life."
"What! Who is he, then?"
"I don't know. Oh, Lord, I've had a time! Thank goodness you'll
probably spend the next few years of your life in Dartmoor for
kidnapping. That's my only consolation. I'll come and jeer at you
through the bars."
"Tell me all, old boy," I said.
It took him a good long time to tell the story, for he broke off in the
middle of nearly every sentence to call me names, but I gathered
gradually what had happened. She had listened like an iceberg while he
told the story he had prepared, and then--well, she didn't actually
call him a liar, but she gave him to understand in a general sort of
way that if he and Dr. Cook ever happened to meet, and started swapping
stories, it would be about the biggest duel on record. And then he had
crawled away with the kid, licked to a splinter.
"And mind, this is your affair," he concluded. "I'm not mixed up in it
at all. If you want to escape your sentence, you'd better go and find
the kid's parents and return him before the police come for you."
* * * * *
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