“What! What! Is your story not true?” Mr. Cox looked both alarmed and irritated.
“It’s practically what old Simpson told right out at the boarding house table. Of course I kind of—er—er—embellished it a little, but the story is almost as he gave it—doughnuts and coffee and all.”
“It is what Major Simpson thinks is true, but suppose I go on with my tale. I am sure Mr. Blaine wrote the matter up quite correctly according to newspaper etiquette—certainly there is no handle for legal trouble,” soothed Josie. “If I don’t mind being called a beautiful criminal I am sure Mrs. Leslie should not mind being published as a fascinating widow. Anyhow, no names were used, so what’s the difference?”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Mr. Cox, smoothing out his troubled brow. “Pray proceed. Your story is most interesting.”
“Please tell us—did you return the goods to Mr. Burnett?” asked Jimmy.
Then Josie told of the twisted newspaper and her discovery of the lace and gold mesh bag and her taking the articles to Mr. Burnett. She also told of having tried to locate the haughty Miss Fauntleroy.
“And now—to sum up: Miss Fauntleroy is a fake and wishes to conceal her address. The newspaper I bought from the old woman who sits at the rear entrance of Burnett & Burnett’s had passed through the hands of Miss Fauntleroy and she put the stolen goods in the paper and twisted it up and returned it to the old woman.”
“Golly!” was all Jimmy could say. “And this Miss Fauntleroy?”
“It came to me all of a heap this very day that it was she to whom the young Kambourian had the haunting likeness. I had seen her in the store and been rather interested in her because she seemed different from the other employees. She is evidently the daughter of the house and the old beggar is none other than the mother, Madame Kambourian. The father begs at the front door, the mother at the back, and the daughter takes what suits her fancy and deposits it now with Mamma and now with Papa.”
“But you said this Madame Kambourian was handsome,” objected Mr. Cox. “Handsome and not at all old—hardly old enough to be the mother of the youth.”