“What sort?”
“Legitermit—I do assure you, sir.”
When Fibsy assumed this deeply earnest air, Stone knew some clever dodge was in his mind, and he found it usually turned out well, so he said, “Go ahead, my boy; I trust you.”
“Thank yer,” and Fibsy devoted himself to the remainder of his breakfast, while Stone read the morning paper.
An hour later Terence McGuire presented himself at the Embury home and asked for Miss Ames.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said, as he smiled brightly at her. “Howlja like to join me in a bit of investergation that’ll proberly end up in a s’lution of the mystery?”
“I’d like it first rate,” replied Miss Ames, with enthusiasm. “When do we begin?”
“Immejitly. Where’s Mis’ Embury?”
“In her room.”
“No use a-disturbin’ her, but I want’a see the jersey—the gymnasium jersey your ghost wore.”