"I guess everybody likes to be thanked, when they deserve it...." She jumped out of bed, and slipped into a chiffon negligee that hung over the chair. "And now I'll hurry with my bath!"
"Yes, dear—because your father arrived yesterday, after you had gone to bed. He'll be here for lunch, but he has to leave right after supper."
"Is he downstairs now?" asked Linda, excitedly.
"I don't know whether he has come in or not. He went somewhere with Ralph this morning."
"With Ralph?"
"Yes. Something about the theft, I believe.... Well, dear, I'll send up some raspberries—or would you rather have cantaloupe?"
"Cantaloupe, I think, Aunt Emily," replied Linda, as Miss Carlton left the room.
Some of the happiness with which Linda awoke seemed to vanish at her aunt's statement about her father and Ralph. She had forgotten for the moment about the necklace—that airplane accident, and the shock of finding Ted Mackay. What could it all mean? Was Ted really involved in the affair?
By this time her father must know about him, since her Aunt Emily said he was with Ralph. What were they up to now? If Ted really were in league with the thief, would they put him in prison too? She hated the thought of such a thing—it did not seem possible. Surely, there must be some explanation. All of a sudden she longed fiercely to see the boy, to hear the story from his own lips. But he was in a hospital, unconscious—perhaps dying!