“Perhaps that doesn’t tell us much and perhaps it does. It is possible, of course, that they were drugged in some way, by people on the watch in public places. I mean without regard to their identity. On the other hand, it _looks_ as if most of the abductions must have been planned in advance, _with a foreknowledge_ of the _girls’ movements_. “You know as well as I do, that it isn’t so simple to drug and kidnap a person in broad daylight, or, at least, in a public place. These were not the type of girls to be easily drawn into a more secluded place with strangers, whether male or female, even if the girls were alone. Do you see what I mean?” “You mean spies in their homes? Servants?” I began. The Chief shook his head. “Not likely. Servants aren’t so well informed as all that, as a rule. No, the conclusion that’s just forced itself on me is that, unlikely as it may seem, the person or persons mixed up in this business belong to the same class of Society as the girls themselves.” “But, good Lord, man—what—why——” The Chief leaned forward suddenly, his jaw setting into flinty lines. “For example, what do you know about this Mrs. Furneau, who took your sister out to tea that day?” I sat back and stared at him, my mind racing back to the night of Margaret’s disappearance. For an instant it fastened on the vague sense of resentment I had felt toward Mrs. Furneau for her part in the business. Then common sense prevailed. “But what on earth could she have had to do with it? You don’t suppose she followed the child into the store? And how could she abduct her if she had? That was the most public of places,” I answered. “Exactly,” said the Chief slowly; “if she ever went to the store at all!” “But—but——” “Did any one in the store actually see her? Did they remember and describe her?” I shook my head. “But that doesn’t prove anything.” “No, it doesn’t. I’m not trying to prove anything now. I’m trying to show you our line of deduction. But what _do_ you know about the woman?” “Very little. She was an acquaintance only. But many of her friends are above suspicion.” “And the people where she took your sister?” “I don’t know so much about them.” I stared at him in growing amazement. “But what could they have to do with it? You don’t mean to say that you think——” “I don’t think anything. I’m asking questions. What did Mrs. Furneau’s chauffeur have to tell you?” “Nothing more than she had to tell. He just corroborated the fact that Margaret had gone into the store.” “H’m,” said the Chief. “But of course that doesn’t help much, one way or the other.” “Do you mean to say you think it’s possible that Mrs. Furneau took the child to some house where she was kept a prisoner? And Mrs. Furneau invented all that business about the store? And her chauffeur was in it too?”