“No, she didn’t. Could she have gone to the movies with any of the girls, do you think?”
“Possibly. But she usually tells me where she is going. Of course she may have gone home with the Walder girls, and I know their folks haven’t a phone.”
Mr. Gay seemed reassured; after all, he decided, nothing could happen to his daughter now that the criminals were under lock and key.
“Well, tell her I’ll take the first train home tomorrow,” he concluded, “and that I have good news for her.”
“I will, Mr. Gay,” promised the hotel manager.
Disappointed but not worried, he replaced the receiver and went down to the desk to inquire for the picture of Mrs. Ferguson’s band of thieves. Several copies had been struck off, and they were surprisingly good. Mr. Gay chuckled when he thought how pleased Mary Louise would be to see all the criminals lined up together.
Taking the pictures with him, he went straight to the offices of Baltimore’s leading newspapers. In a short time he had given the editors the important facts of the capture of the dangerous band, giving the credit to Mary Louise. To one of these newspapers he gave his daughter’s picture—a snapshot which he always carried in his pocket.
“Wait till Riverside sees that!” he exulted. “Won’t our family be proud of our Mary Lou!”
Mr. Gay slept soundly that night, believing that everything was all right with Mary Louise. Had he but known the agony of spirit his daughter was experiencing he would have returned posthaste to Philadelphia.
Mrs. Hilliard, however, was more concerned and spent a restless night. She felt sure that something had happened to Mary Louise, for she was not the sort of girl to go off without mentioning her plans. Even if she had gone to the country with the Walder girls, she would have found a way to telephone. Mary Louise was never thoughtless or selfish.