Bob Dulaney had hardly left the shop before Hortense Markle burst out with the remark:

“Miss O’Gorman, how could you be so imprudent?”

“Imprudent? I? You mean because I told Mr. Dulaney he might come keep shop for us?” asked Josie, looking so stupid Hortense felt like slapping her. “You don’t think that was proper?”

“Proper! The idea! My dear girl, I only meant it was imprudent to let him go off with that valuable book of your father’s. I am sure we all feel an interest in you, and such a book as that is of untold value. Did you not say it contained notes he had kept almost from the beginning of his career and had descriptions of all the noted criminals, convicted and unconvicted?”

“Yes, it has,” answered Josie, putting on the air of a moron. Her tone was so dull and her145 manner so stupid that Elizabeth and Irene, who well understood the keen intelligence of their partner, looking on in astonishment. What was she trying to do?

“Well, knowing that, don’t you think it was a little too trusting to let a strange young man simply walk off with that precious book in his pocket? He might keep on walking and never come back. Such a treasure as that would be of more value to a collector than I can tell you and Mr. Dulaney could realize more from the sale of such a book than he could make on his tuppenny articles for Sunday supplements in ten years’ time.”

Irene’s eyes were flashing. At least now she had a reason for hating Hortense Markle. What a cruel suggestion! How could she harbor such a thought? Bob Dulaney with his frank open manner and kind, clear eyes, Bob Dulaney a possible thief! Danny Dexter’s friend! Her friend too—she felt she could count him among her real friends. Could she sit there and let such an imputation go unchallenged? She looked at Josie in astonishment. Of course it was her business to combat such an unkind suggestion, but Josie was looking blank as a whitewashed146 fence. Elizabeth, however, arose to the occasion with:

“I fancy you are mistaken, Mrs. Markle. I am sure Mr. Dulaney is honor itself. I think he can be trusted with anything, no matter how valuable. I’d stake my life on it.”

“And I, mine!” spoke up Irene in a low clear voice.

“Ah, and so the handsome Goliath has champions among the fair sex,” laughed Hortense. “Heavens, children, I had no idea of bringing down such a deluge of vituperation on my poor little head! I was merely interested in the little book, not on my own account but on my husband’s. Felix was so excited over your having such a book, my dear Josie. He has always been interested in codes and hieroglyphics. He was dying for me to ask you to lend it to him, but I utterly refused. No wonder I am a little peeved when you hand it calmly over to the first good looking young man who asks for it. Well, I must be going. Don’t hurry with the napkins and don’t bother to send them to me. I’ll call for them.”

She tripped gaily from the shop, calling back from the door:

147 “Please don’t be cross with me for suggesting that poor Mr. Dulaney might be tempted by the marvelous little book. He is, to all appearances, a charming young man, but then after all we don’t really know him very well.”

“We know him as well as we know you,” was on the tip of Irene’s tongue, but she did not say it, only bowed her head stiffly when Hortense included her in the beaming smile and wave of farewell.

“Rather catty, I call that,” said Elizabeth, when their charming visitor was well out of ear shot. “What do you think she meant by suggesting such a horrid thing, Josie?”

Josie, who had lost her strange stupid look, laughed gaily at Elizabeth’s question. “She didn’t mean anything at all, Elizabeth. She was put out because the nice, big boy didn’t pay her any attention. He was either talking business and books with you and me or he was leaning over Irene there making engagements. The beautiful Mrs. Markle must be the center of attraction or she won’t play.”

“Oh!” and Irene blushed rosy red. This was indeed being like other girls if somebody was jealous of her. “I can’t help thinking she had148 some other motive,” Irene whispered to Josie, when Elizabeth went back to her noisy copying of the flamboyant story. “Of course, if such a charmer as Mrs. Markle wanted the attentions of a young man she could have them without lifting an eyelash.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” insisted Josie. “Some men don’t fall for so much beauty of face. They are on the lookout for beauty of soul. Wonderful damask napkins she left! Did you look at the embroidered initials? I hope I won’t scorch them. There is no telling what they are worth. Each one is big enough for a tablecloth.”

“They are wonderful,” said Irene. “I never heard of anyone’s having napkins laundered before the initials were embroidered, but it no doubt is a good thing. Mrs. Markle certainly knows all about it. I have never imagined such perfect work.” She sighed and dropped the lace she was mending for a moment and picked up one of the napkins the closer to scrutinize the regular stitches. Her magnifying glass was in her lap and she gazed at the work through it.

“Why, Josie, come here!” she cried in some excitement. “This napkin has had a piece cut149 out and a patch put in—one of Mrs. Markle’s incomparable patches, but a patch for all that.”

“See if this one has too,” asked Josie, trying not to show the excitement that she too felt.

“Yes, this one and this one and this one—all of them!” exclaimed Irene in a puzzled tone. “Look, she has matched each thread and then made an initial large enough to cover the patch almost entirely. I never saw such clever work in my life—but why?”

“Perhaps she did not like the initial she first put there and cut it out to put another,” suggested Josie, a twinkle asserting itself in her eyes that she seemed to be trying to make opaque.

“The patches are not all the same size,” declared Irene, picking up napkin after napkin and examining them carefully through her glass. “What can it mean, Josie?”

“Well, I guess we can safely say we have found the other two napkins,” whispered Josie. “They went to make the patches. Also someone besides Hortense did the cutting. Clever Hortense! Not clever enough, however, to get by with it! My father used to say that only the people who went to work taking for granted that150 others were cleverer than they kept out of the penitentiary. Hortense thinks I am a dullard and you a sweet person who has taken a dislike to her and not to be worried about one way or the other.”

“But what do you mean, Josie? Penitentiary—you can’t—”

“Yes, I can—but don’t tell Elizabeth&............