What Mrs. Babbitts had to say came not as one shock but as a series. Mrs. Janney could not at first believe it; she had to be shown the notes of the telephone message, and dropped them in her lap, staring from her husband to Wilbur Whitney in aghast question. Mr. Janney seemed stunned, shrunk in his clothes like a turtle in its shell. It was not until the lawyer, alluding to the loss of the jewels, mentioned Miss Maitland’s possible participation either as the actual thief or as an accomplice, that he displayed a suddenly vitalized interest. His body stretched forward, and his neck craned up from its collar gave him more than ever the appearance of a turtle reaching out of its shell, his voice coming with a stammering urgency: "But—but—no one can be sure. We mustn’t be too hasty. We can’t condemn the girl without sufficient evidence. Some one else may have been there and—" Mrs. Janney shut him off with an exasperated impatience: "Oh, Sam, don’t go back over all that. I don’t care who took them; I don’t care if I never see them again. It’s only the child that matters." Then to Whitney the inconsequential disposed of, "We must make a move at once, but we must do it quietly without anything getting into the papers." Whitney nodded: "That’s my idea." "What are you going to do—go directly to him?" "No, not yet. Our first step will be made as you suggest, very quietly. We’re going to keep the matter out of the papers and away from the police. Keep it to ourselves—do it ourselves. And I think—I don’t want to raise any false hopes—but I think we can lay our hands on Bébita to-night." "How—where?" Mr. Janney’s head was thrust forward, his blurred eyes alight. "If you don’t mind, I’m not going to tell you. I’m going to ask you to leave it to me and let me see if my surmises are correct. If Chapman has her where I think he has, I’ll give her over to you by ten o’clock. If I’m mistaken it will only mean a short postponement. He can’t keep her and he knows it." "The blackguard!" groaned the old man in helpless wrath. Mrs. Janney wasted neither time nor energy in futile passion. She attacked another side of the situation. "What are we to do with Miss Maitland? You can’t arrest her." "Certainly not. She’s a very important person and we must have her under our eye. You must treat her as if you entirely exonerated her from all blame—maintain the attitude you took just now when talking with her. If my immediate plan should fail our best chance of getting Bébita without publicity and an ugly scandal will be through her. She must have no hint of what we think, must believe herself unsuspected, and free to come and go as she pleases." "You mean she’s to stay on with us?" Mr. Janney’s voice was high with indignant protest.