Chapter 17: The Scorched Face

The Scorched Face I “We expected them home yesterday,” Alfred Banbrock wound up his story. “When they had not come by this morning, my wife telephoned Mrs. Walden. Mrs. Walden said they had not been down there—had not been expected, in fact.” “On the face of it, then,” I suggested, “it seems that your daughters went away of their own accord, and are staying away on their own accord?” Banbrock nodded gravely. Tired muscles sagged in his fleshy face. “It would seem so,” he agr…