“Oh, wait a minute,” said Patty; “let me think.”
“Think away, Miss; perhaps you can remember where you’ve hid your money.”
“But I tell you I haven’t any,” said Patty, her indignation rising above her fear. “Now, look here, I have a friend right in here at this address; let me speak to her, and she’ll come out and pay you.”
“No, no, Miss; you can’t ketch me that way. I’ve heard of them friends before. But I’ll tell you what,” he added, as Patty stood looking at him blankly, “I’ll go in there with you, and if so be’s your friend’s there and pays up the cash, I’ve nothing more to say.”
The hansom-driver climbed down from his seat and went with Patty into the costumer’s shop.
A stolid-looking woman of Italian type met them and enquired what was wanted.
“Is Miss Sinclair here?” asked Patty eagerly.
“No, Miss, there’s nobody here by way of a customer.”
“But hasn’t a lady been here in the last hour, to look at costumes for a play?”
“No, Miss, nobody’s been here this whole morning.”