Mary Louise’s first impulse, upon leaving Miss Tracey’s home, was to rush right over to Corinne Pearson with a demand to see the necklace which she had worn at the dance the night before. But she had not taken more than a few steps before she saw the foolishness of such a proceeding. In the first place, Corinne would not be likely to show her the necklace; in the second place, Mary Louise could tell nothing by examining it. She wasn’t a connoisseur in rubies; it was doubtful whether she could spot a real stone if she saw one. No, nothing was to be gained by a visit to the Pearsons’ at this time.
So instead she directed her course towards home, resolving to discuss the whole affair with her father, if he had returned from his business trip, as her mother had expected.
She found him on the porch, reading the Sunday paper and smoking his pipe. He was a big man with a determined chin and fine dark eyes which lighted up with joy at the sight of his daughter.
“Mary Lou!” he exclaimed, getting up out of his chair and kissing her. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be home to see me!”
“I just had to see you, Daddy,” returned the girl. “I need your help.”
“Sit down, dear. Your mother tells me that you are engaged in some serious business. I feel very proud of my detective daughter.”
“I’m afraid I’m not so good after all,” she replied sadly. “Now that I’m really up against a hard problem, I don’t know which way to turn. I’d like to tell you about it, if you have time.”
She seated herself in the hammock and took off her hat. It was lovely and cool on the shaded porch after the heat of the Riverside streets.
“Of course I have time,” Mr. Gay assured her. “Begin at the beginning.”
“I will, Daddy. Only, first of all, you must promise not to tell anybody—except Mother, of course. Miss Grant seems to dread publicity of any kind.”