The detective gave her a keen glance that seemed to take in every detail of her face and person. "Certainly," he said, then, bowing politely, "I'll see you later, Miss Thompson."
CHAPTER XXXI
LIONEL TO THE RESCUE
Without losing an instant Betty flew to the telephone.
"Hello! Hello!" she called impatiently, but there was no response. She worked the lever, shook the receiver, tapped her foot, and winked her long eyelashes rapidly, all to no avail. The instrument seemed dead, there was no familiar buzzing of the wires and it presently occurred to her that this was no ordinary delay of a heedless operator; there was something wrong with the telephone itself.
"Oh, dear!" she cried. "What shall I do?" And, hurrying to the conservatory window, she looked out despairingly among the palms and lilies. Then her face lighted as she saw Lionel coming slowly across the lawn. In one hand he carried his inevitable watering pot and in the other he held an open book that he seemed to be studying.
"Mr. Fitz-Brown! Come here—please—quick," she called.
"Right-o!" answered the amateur gardener and blissful lover, and leaving his watering pot, but clinging to his book, Lionel presently joined the young lady in the library.
"I say, I'm awfully pleased you called me," he beamed. "You know you're an awfully intelligent girl, Miss Thompson, and all that sort of thing and—do you happen to know anything about—er—bugs?"
"Bugs?" gasped Betty.