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Updated: July 13, 2025
"Hurry, then; I'll explain things while we're on our way. I'll wait for you in the cab," she said. Mrs. Sprockett's husband answered the door when he crossed the street to the Sprockett home to tell his mother he had been called away. "Tell mother that I'm going to see a friend and that I'll be home before it is late," he said. "Tell her there's no need to worry about me."
Gallant while John had a momentary apprehension that Mrs. Sprockett's condition might be the result of a discovery that her daughter had visited the corner motion picture theater surreptitiously. "She's gone," Mrs. Sprockett gasped. "Gone?" Mrs. Gallant exclaimed. "Gone," Mrs. Sprockett repeated, and then, with a sob of despair, she added, "Kidnaped!"
Gallant was smiling and patting Consuello's hand, which she held in both her own! Wondering what had happened to bring about such a happy scene, John strode toward it, smiling his happiest. He was about to speak when Mrs. Sprockett, allowing Alma to go to her father, grasped Consuello's hand and holding it tight against her breast, cried softly: "My dear, my dear, oh, what you have done for us!
"Then, Mrs. Sprockett, there's only one thing for you to do," he said, "and that is to inform the police." "I have just come from the police station," Mrs. Sprockett said. "They sent me here. They told me that the best way to find a missing girl was through the newspapers. They said that in 99 cases out of 100 girls who disappear are either found or traced by the newspapers and newspaper men.
Tremulously he turned his head and saw her answer in her eyes and slowly, almost reverently, he lifted her hand to his lips. A mocking bird broke into joyous song in a tree outside, a golden flood of music to mock the silent song in his heart. Lights were shining through the curtains on the windows of the Sprockett house and his mother was waiting up for him when he returned home.
John imagined he saw Mrs. Sprockett and her husband peering out of the window of the Sprockett house across the street. The trust that Consuello reposed in him when she told him of her promise to marry Gibson, John held inviolable to the extent that he did not mention it to his mother.
Sprockett ever, ever been deeply in love, exulting in the happiness before them in married life? How miserable it was that Sprockett had to whisper to him "not to tell," exactly as Alma had? He found his thoughts distressful and was about to rise, planning an hour with his books before going to sleep, when an automobile he knew by the outline it was a taxicab stopped before the house.
"I tell you we owe it to our children to crush these creatures that set such wicked examples. And Mr. Sprockett agrees with me in every word I say." As far as John knew, Mrs. Sprockett's husband had never, never disagreed with her for good and sufficient reasons. He had recalled how Mrs.
Alma Sprockett stopped him at a corner and begged him not to tell something he knew nothing of, and he promised her he wouldn't tell and went on his way racking his brain to remember what she had said to him.
John watched them cross the street and saw the door close behind them. Soon the whistling ceased and Sprockett and the baby went inside. For half an hour John lolled on the porch, pondering over Alma's disappearance, the abjectedness of Mrs. Sprockett's husband and the spectacle of Mrs. Sprockett's wilfulness. Had Mr. and Mrs.
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