“Not so hasty, not so hasty,” replied Mr. Mudge. “My dear young lady, if you will reflect a moment, you will perceive that nothing of this kind has been charged against you. The question does not concern you at all, but this athletic young lady—Lawn Tennis.”
Mr. Mudge had become so firmly convinced in his own mind that Polo’s name was Lawn Tennis that we saw the futility of correcting him and gave up the attempt.
“Mr. Mudge,” Winnie exclaimed, “we protest! Cynthia, I call upon you to own up. It wasn’t such a very bad frolic. You meant no particular harm. We will all sign a petition to Madame asking her to let you off. Don’t let Polo be unjustly suspected. You know you did it; own up to it like a man.”
But Cynthia was in no mood to own up to anything like a man, or like a decent girl. She simply turned her nose several degrees higher and remained silent.
“Your cowardly silence will not shield you,” Adelaide exclaimed scornfully. “I have some letters from my brother which make me very positive that this is one of your scrapes, and I will show them to Mr. Mudge unless you confess instantly.”
“I have nothing to confess,” Cynthia replied in a low voice, but the words seemed to stick in her throat.
Mr. Mudge next asked us, in a thoughtful manner, whether “Lawn Tennis” was connected with the institution at the time of the robbery. I replied that she was, but that I could not see any relation between that crime and the present escapade.
“Perhaps not,” Mr. Mudge replied; “and then again we never can tell what apparently trifling circumstance may lead up to the great discovery. As I have previously remarked, it is more than probable that the thief having been once successful will try the same game again. Then, too, if your thief happens to be a kleptomaniac, she could not refrain from pilfering. Have you lost anything since that eventful night?”
“Nothing whatever.”
“And you have used the cabinet since as a depository for your funds?”