Gale opened the door and stepped within.
“Oh, Gale.” The Dean looked up. She was just slipping into her coat. “Be seated. I want to mail this letter. It must get off immediately.”
“I’ll mail it for you,” Gale offered.
“No, I’ll drop it myself. It will only take a moment. Wait for me.”
Gale looked about the empty office. There was a typewriter next to the Dean’s desk. Her curiosity getting the better of her Gale inserted a sheet and typed a few words. It was not the smoothness or noiselessness of the machine that attracted her, but the letters themselves. The letters were even, in perfect alignment, all but the R. That was slightly raised. Gale could scarcely believe her eyes. She jerked the paper from the machine and brought the old mysterious note from her pocket. There was no question about it! The two had been written on the same machine! But it was impossible—incredible!
The Dean had not sent them that note, had she? Certainly not! But who then? Her secretary? Gale looked dubious. There was more in this situation than she had guessed. That she decided before—but now! How had this note been written on the Dean’s typewriter? She put both sheets of paper into her pocket again as she heard footsteps in the outer office.
“Now, Gale, what is it?” The Dean removed her coat and seated herself behind her desk.
“Phyllis. She has decided she doesn’t want to go home for Christmas. She would rather stay here. David, Mr. Kimball, wants to come to Briarhurst again and see Phyllis over the holidays.” Gale drummed lightly on the space bar of the typewriter. “A nice typewriter, Dean. Just new?”
“Yes, my secretary bought it yesterday.”
Yesterday! Gale added that to the storehouse of facts in her mind. Yesterday! Yet she was sure the mysterious note had been written on it months before! She scarcely heard the Dean’s permission for David to come to Briarhurst as he had done on Thanksgiving, so busy was she turning over this new development.