Nancy was usually frankness personified, and she blurted it out now:
“I’m wondering what is in the two letters I have in my pocket, Miss Maybrick.”
“Where did you get them?” demanded the suspicious teacher.
“Madame Schakael gave them to me. I suppose they are from my guar——” No! she could not claim Henry Gordon as her guardian. “From the gentleman who pays my bills here,” she added, in a lower voice.
“Well, for mercy’s sake go to your seat and read them,” said the instructor, but more mildly. “They may be important. And having mastered their contents, please try to master the lesson.”
Nancy did as she was bid. With trembling fingers she opened one of the envelopes. They both were typewritten as to address; but one seemed addressed by an amateur in the art of typewriting. Nancy opened the other first.
The enclosure was a slip of paper on which was written in a hurried scrawl:
“You may need something extra. This is for your own use.—H. Gordon.”
And wrapped in this paper was a crisp twenty-dollar bill!
Nancy had scarcely spent a penny of her carefully hoarded pocket money since coming to Pinewood Hall. Indeed, she had found no opportunity for using it.