Zizi’s modest little string of black beads hung perhaps four inches below her throat. She examined the yellow beads, saw they were of amber, and put them away in her little handbag.
“Now, Hannah,” she went on, “you and I are friends——”
“An’ that I’m proud to be, miss!”
“And you must help me all you can——”
“Help you what?”
“Find out the truth about Miss Betty,—and perhaps,—find her.”
“Are you,—are you——”
“Yes, I’m a detective,—that is, I’m the assistant of Mr Wise, and he’s the greatest detective in the world.”
“Is he that, now?” and Kelly, unable to resist the fascination of this queer visitor, joined the group.
“Yes, he is. And he is going to solve the whole mystery,—if we all help. And, maybe we’ll help best by doing nothing. And especially by saying nothing. So, you two keep quite still about finding these beads, won’t you, and about matters in general. You talk over things with the villagers, I suppose, but don’t say anything about what happens up here now. Discuss the past, all you like, but not the present. See?”