Then Tom Scott faded away in the fog and darkness, and the chaplain, muttering something the girls could not catch, turned back toward his own residence near the chapel.
Now he caught sight of the girls, and turning toward them, and by doing so disturbing more wisps of the swirling fog, he greeted them in his most benign manner with:
“Good-evening, young ladies! Walking in the fog?”
“Yes, Dr. Bordmust, we like it,” answered Arden, with a great assumption of innocence.
“Hum—er—yes,” mumbled Henny. “Though it isn’t good for old throats,” and coughing raspingly, he swung on his way.
“That’s lucky!” exclaimed Terry as they hurried on.
“What do you suppose they were talking about?” asked Arden.
“As if we could guess,” sighed Sim. “But I know one thing,” she added as they slipped in at the door, “if that agent at the station doesn’t tell anyone what happened, we’re all right.”
“Hello, freshies!” exclaimed a voice close to them. “Rather late to be coming back from the station, isn’t it? I was behind you all the way from the post office.”
The three whirled around. The speaker was Jessica Darglan, smiling sardonically.