“This, unfortunately, does not bring us any nearer to the solution of the puzzle—what has become of the notes?” said Miss Beasley.
“Raymonde couldn’t have spent them in the village, when she had gone out before they were put there!” ventured Veronica.
“And I certainly didn’t abscond with them!” declared Violet. “Though I really believe Ray thinks so. Confess you do, old sport!”
Raymonde blushed crimson.
“I thought you’d taken them for a joke,” she said in a low voice.
“Is that why you refused to explain?” interposed the Principal quickly. “You were afraid of getting your friend into trouble?”
“Yes, Miss Beasley.”
“But what’s become of the wretched notes?” asked Violet; “They must be somewhere. Have you looked properly through this old bureau? I know these queer shallow drawers by experience, and things sometimes slip over the backs of them. Have you had the drawer right out? It’s stuck, has it? Oh, it probably only wants a good pull! Lend me your key! Here goes!”
Violet exerted all her strength in a mighty tug, 287 and the drawer tumbled out with a jerk. She put in her hand and felt about in the space behind. There was a large hole in the back of the bureau, and her fingers went through it into a cavity in the wall.
“There’s something queer here!” she exclaimed, drawing out a round ball of shreds of paper. “Mrs. Mouse’s nursery, if I don’t mistake! Sorry to intrude, but we’ll take a peep at the children!”