“Yes, sir, I am convinced they did just that,” declared the woman, glaring at the horrified Ruth and Helen.
Said the latter, angrily: “Why, the mean old thing! Who ever heard the like?”
“Oh, I know girls through and through!” snapped the strange woman. “I should think I ought to by this time—after fifteen years of dealing with the minxes. I could see that those two were sly and untrustworthy, the instant I saw them.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Ruth.
“Nasty cat!” muttered Helen.
The officer was not greatly impressed. “Have you any real evidence connecting these young ladies with the loss of your ticket?” he asked.
“I say it’s stolen!” cried the sharp-voiced one.
“And it may, instead, have been picked up, folder and all, by a quite different party. Perhaps the purser already has your lost ticket——”
At that moment the purser himself appeared, coming up the saloon. Behind him were two of the under stewards burdened with magnificent bunches of roses. A soft voice appealed at Ruth’s elbow:
“If missy jes’ let me take her stateroom key, den all dem roses be ‘ranged in dar mos’ skillful—ya-as’m; mos’ skillful.”