"Go on! I'll tell you why," she said in a low tone Then, when they were on the main road, "I thought I'd make sure there aren't any more letters lying around in my room that might make trouble."
He nodded his approval of this precaution. And now they were silent for two or three minutes, while the machine flew over a smooth mile leading to the country club.
"Do you know how you're going to work this boy?" she questioned anxiously, as they swung into the beautifully kept grounds of the Ippingford golf course.
"Sure! Mrs. Baxter has sent her maid, that's you, to get her golf bag. She wants the bag down at Brighton. And the bag's in Mrs. Baxter's locker."
"How about the key?"
"Mrs. Baxter has mislaid the key. The woman in charge of the locker room will open the locker for you. See?"
"I see," answered Hester, and as the car drew up under the white columned porch of the club house she hopped out nimbly. "I won't be a minute." Then she started eagerly for the door.
"Wait!" called Anton, with a flash of distrust. "Come back! I'll get the bag myself." And, passing her, he disappeared within the house just as a party of smartly dressed ladies came out and stood chatting and laughing on the broad piazza.
Hester climbed back into the auto and waited, biting her lips. And presently a hard-featured woman appeared, followed by the chauffeur carrying a golf bag. One glance showed the girl that it was the golf bag—there was no doubt about it.
"Are you Mrs. Baxter's maid?" demanded the woman in a shrill voice, while the ladies stared.