“Just a minute,” replied the girl. “Till I put on my bath robe. I was out late—at a dance, and I’m just undressing now.”
“What time is it, anyway?” asked Mary Louise. “You see, my watch was stolen.”
“It’s only a few minutes after one,” replied the policeman.
A moment later Pauline unlocked the door, and the three people entered. The room was very untidy: clothing had been flung about everywhere, and two open suitcases occupied the chairs.
“Look in the closet,” advised Mrs. Hilliard.
“There’s nobody there,” answered Pauline. “I’ve just been in it. But you might look under the bed. That’s where men always hide in the bedroom farces.”
“You wouldn’t think this was a ‘bedroom farce’ if you’d just lost your watch and your purse,” remarked Mary Louise sharply.
“I’m sorry, Mary Lou,” apologized Pauline. “You see, I didn’t know that you were the victim.”
“We’ve got to get along,” interrupted the officer. “There’s nobody here—I’m sure of that.”
They passed on to the other rooms, waking up the guests when it was necessary, apologizing, explaining—and finding nobody. In only two of the rooms besides Pauline’s had they found lights burning. Miss Granger, the artist, was still working on some drawings she was making for a magazine, and Miss Henrietta Stoddard, who explained that she was “such a poor sleeper,” was reading a book. But both these women said that they had heard no disturbance.