“Never mind about her manners!” whispered Leslie, excitedly. “Did you notice anything else?”
“Noticed that she was very smart looking and quite pretty—that is, I thought so at first. But after she acted that way, she seemed positively hateful!”
“No, no! I don’t mean that. Did you notice anything about her dress—her clothes?”
“Oh, do tell me what you mean!” cried Phyllis. “How you do love to mystify a person!”
“Well,” whispered Leslie, her eyes still on the door of the little store, “when she threw open her coat I just happened to glance at her dress, and noticed that it had a girdle of some dark green, crêpe-y material, and the two ends had fringes of beads—and the beads were just like the ones in Curlew’s Nest!”
Phyllis simply stared at her, open-mouthed and incredulous. “It can’t be!” she muttered at length. “Even if the beads were like the ones you found—there are probably more persons than one who have some like them.”
“Yes, that’s true,” admitted Leslie, “but the color—and queer shape—everything!—At least, it’s something worth investigating. It’s the first real clue we’ve had.”
At that moment, the girl in question came out of the store, sprang into the car, whirled the wheel about, and was off down the street in a cloud of dust. They stood gazing after her.
“It doesn’t seem possible!” exclaimed Phyllis. “It just can’t be! And yet—tell you what! I’m just wondering whether she’s staying anywhere around here or is just a casual stranger passing through the town. Let’s go in and ask old Mrs. Selby if she knows anything about her. If she’s staying here, Mrs. Selby will positively know it. I’ll make the excuse of having forgotten to buy something. Come along!”
She hustled Leslie back into the little shop and soon had little Mrs. Selby hunting for a size and variety of shell hair-pin of which she had no need whatever, as she possessed already a plentiful supply at home. But it was the only thing she could think of at the moment. When they were being wrapped, she asked quite casually: