Again Dorothy invited Tavia to go to the city with her, but Tavia refused on the plea that her head threatened to ache, and she thought it best to stay at home. So on the morning following the boys' joke with the stuffed man, Dorothy got ready early and hurried for the business train to the city.
She reached the station just in time—merely had her ticket bought when the train steamed in—and making her way among the crowds of men, she was able to reach a seat in one of the coaches where a few women were in with the many gentlemen who patronized the express.
She had unconsciously followed the one woman who boarded the train at North Birchland, and now took the same seat—the other getting close to the window and leaving the half seat free for Dorothy.
It was some moments before the girl chanced to look up and observe her companion. When she did so, she was startled to find her none other than the little woman in black.
The stranger seemed to note Dorothy's surprise, and turned directly to her.
"We meet again," she said pleasantly, in a voice Dorothy thought at once cultured and peculiarly sweet.
"Yes," replied Dorothy, also smiling. Surely she and Tavia had been mistaken in their unkind opinion of this little body.
"I go into the city almost daily," continued the woman, "and now, in the busy time, I try to make this early train. I do so dislike to get in the crowd."
"It is unpleasant," said Dorothy a little guiltily, for at each word the woman she felt more positive this gentle person could never be what they had supposed her—a shoplifter.
"I wanted to speak to your friend the other day," went on the stranger, "but I couldn't seem to get an opportunity. I suppose I might—send her a message—by you?"
"Why, yes—certainly," Dorothy , really surprised this time.
"I saw when she dropped the envelope in the train that her name was Travers, and I thought if she would call on me I might be able to help her in a little business matter. It is of rather a delicate nature," the woman added, smiling, "so you will excuse me for being so mysterious."
"Why, of course," was all that Dorothy could think to answer. "I am sure Tavia—Miss Travers—would be glad——"
"Here is my card," interrupted the woman, evidently noting Dorothy's . Dorothy accepted the piece of cardboard, and glancing at it read:
Miss Estelle
Expert Penman
Envelopes addressed, etc. Benson Road, Ferndale.
As she read the card it flashed through Dorothy's mind that after all the woman might simply be trying to get trade. There seemed to be some connection between Tavia's envelope and the business advertised on Miss Brooks' card. But whatever could she want of Tavia? Surely she could not imagine a young girl needing the services of an expert penman?
"I saw your trouble in the store the other day," Miss Brooks ventured, "and was so sorry for you. I did want to help you—to tell that young woman detective just what I thought. But experience has taught me that it is not always best to in such cases. It often only adds to the difficulty."
Dorothy could not find words in which to reply. Whatever she might say would either seem stupid or perhaps suspicious. And of the subtle ways of women "sharpers" Dorothy had often heard. It was, she , almost impossible to be alert to their cunning. Perhaps this woman was one of that class—an at it.
"Is there any particular time you would like Miss Travers to call?" Dorothy asked, turning the subject sharply.
"I am always at home on Thursdays," replied Miss Brooks, "and she will have no trouble in finding me. I board at the Griswold."
Dorothy knew the Griswold to be a rest resort, a sort of sanitarium where fashionable people went to from home or social duties. This Miss Brooks did not appear to be in the circumstances of those who frequented the Griswold, the girl thought.
"I'll tell her," she said simply.
"She is just a friend?" ventured Miss Brooks questioningly.
"A very dear friend," replied Dorothy warmly, at the same moment making up her mind that the stranger would not learn from her any more concerning ............