“It was twelve when I got back to my room,” averred Dorcas. “Any one who tells a different story is making it up.”
There was no doubting the statement of the clear young voice or the truth stamped on the sweet young face, and all present believed her.
Mrs Everett forebore to chide, so interested was she in learning if this confession would clear her from suspicion.
“We must look up the girl who told the story,” said the detective. “The statement was about a veiled figure, and the assertion that it was Miss Everett was not from a dependable source. But I believe Miss Everett implicitly, and I want to see about some other details before I go further in the matter at all.
“I’ll see that girl who told you the yarn, Penny,” Zizi said, thoughtfully; “you go and look up those other people,—you know——”
“Very well, go ahead. It was Molly.”
“Of course it was. She’s a News-Herald. If you want to know anything ask Molly. I’m going to ask her now.”
“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Dorcas, looking a little nervous and agitated.
“Come along,” said Zizi, smiling at her, and Zizi’s smile was full of comfort and cheer.
Mrs Everett began to say, “Oh, no, my child,” but before she could protest Dorcas and Zizi had left the room.