"It is not so strange," she said at last, "for your disappearance is
indirectly the occasion of my being here also. I believe I can even
call you by name. You are Mr. Cavendish?"
"Yes," he admitted, his hands gripping the back of the bench nervously,
his eyes filled with amazement "But--but I do not know you."
"For the best of reasons," she answered smilingly, advancing and
extending her hand--"because we have never met before. However
mysterious all this must seem to you, Mr. Cavendish, it is extremely
simple when explained. I am Stella Donovan, a newspaperwoman. Your
strange disappearance about a month ago aroused considerable interest,
and I chanced to be detailed on the case. My investigations led me to
visit Haskell, where unfortunately my mission became known to those who
were responsible for your imprisonment here. So, to keep me quiet, I
was also abducted and brought to this place."
"You--you mean it was not an accident--that I was brought here
purposely?"
"Exactly; you were trailed from New York by a gang of thieves having
confederates in this country.
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