Finally, she thought over the circumstances of Mrs. Macgregor’s robbery, and she almost laughed out loud at her own stupidity. Pauline had left her own room as soon as the maid came in to clean it; she had slipped into Mrs. Macgregor’s room and stolen the bag containing the valuables and had left the hotel immediately, before Mrs. Macgregor came out of her bath. Why hadn’t she thought of that explanation before?
The solution seemed logical and plausible, yet how, Mary Louise asked herself, could she prove her accusations? None of these girls had been caught in the act; probably none of them still possessed the stolen articles, and the money had not been marked in any way or the serial numbers taken.
This fact was dreadfully discouraging. If Mary Louise could not prove the girls’ guilt, she could do nothing about it. She couldn’t even assure Mrs. Hilliard that there would be no more robberies at Stoddard House, because she could not know how many members of this gang there were, and the manager could not suspect every transient guest who came to the hotel.
No, she concluded, there was nothing to do but try to catch them in a new crime. If they really made it their business to rob hotels, they would probably carry out some plan here at the Bellevue tonight. Mary Louise’s only course was to watch them.
With this determination in mind, she went to the clerk’s desk in the lobby.
“Could I see the manager?” she inquired.
The man looked at her quizzingly, wondering whether Mary Louise was a patron of the hotel or a society girl who wanted to collect money for something.
“Are you a guest at the hotel, miss?” he asked. “Or have you an appointment?”
“No to both questions,” she replied. “But I am a private detective, and I want to consult him about something.”
“O.K.,” agreed the clerk. “What name, please?”