Marcia gave them quite a concert that afternoon, rendering selection after selection to please them, glad indeed of the diversion and relief from the unpleasantness of their accomplished task. But she did not play the "Träumerei," for some reason not very well defined even to herself, but vaguely connected with recent disclosures. At last Cecily herself asked for it, and then, of course, Marcia could not refrain from obliging her. When it was over, Cecily took her departure, and the girls, left alone, plunged at once into the discussion of the most recent developments of the mystery.
That evening Captain Brett and the two girls held a council of war.
"There's no denying," he said, "we've discovered the most important thing yet in learning that name—Treadwell. We've something to work from now. With that to start from, I can set on foot some inquiries over in England that may establish her identity. And you must ask Miss Benedict (though I hate to be constantly troubling her in this way) if she has any recollection of some one by that name who could possibly have any claim on her. Do this as soon as possible. We're certain to get at the root of the matter very soon now."
"Do you think," asked Marcia, "that those remarks of her mother's that Cecily repeated look as if we were right in believing it to be her stepmother?"
"It certainly seems so to me," he acknowledged. "Of course, we must remember this. When you have a suspicion that certain things are so, every little circumstance and every lightest remark seem to confirm you in that belief. Often these things have absolutely no bearing on it whatever, but you think they have, simply because you fear that they have or want them to have. So we mustn't be misled by chance remarks. I will admit, however, that these particular ones seem singularly to bear us out in our conjectures."
"Well, do let's get some of these things settled to-morrow," sighed Marcia. "I'm losing so much sleep over it that I'm beginning to feel like an owl. I just worry and worry all night long it seems to me. Let's ask Miss Benedict about the name of Treadwell when we go there, if we can possibly manage to see her."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you about that," interrupted the captain. "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to remain at home to-morrow. I'm due downtown on some errands that will take me to a number of places. And at the same time, I'm expecting an important business message over the telephone. I shall have to ask you to be here without fail to take the message for me. I can't trust Eliza to get it right. So you'll have to put off your visit for another day. But don't be too much disappointed, for while I'm away I shall be making inquiries as to how we must go about tracing the name of Treadwell in England. That will be something accomplished." And with this consolation the girls had to be content.
"Now," said Janet, next morning, when the captain had gone and they had resigned themselves to a long day of waiting, "I have a plan to propose. Let's not talk or even think a thing about all this business to-day. If we do, we'll only make ourselves more miserable than we are. I found a perfectly fascinating new book in the library yesterday. Let's sit and read it, turn about, and see if we can't both finish those centerpieces we've been working on so long. We'll have to work like everything to do it. That ought to keep our minds off of our troubles. And we'll telephone for some French pastry for dessert at luncheon, and some candy for this afternoon."
The plan seemed to offer pleasant possibilities, and they both settled themselves comfortably in the cool living-room to pass the morning. The book was well begun and the embroidery advancing rapidly, when Eliza came in with a letter just left in the box, and deposited it on the library table.