Was there a moment's hesitation on the part of the Red Cross girl? Laura thought there was; yet almost instantly the stranger replied:
"My name is Janet Steele."
"Ah! Your address?" repeated the doctor.
This time there was no doubt that the girl flushed, and more than a few seconds passed before she made answer:
"Thirty-seven Whiffle Street."
At the same moment somebody exclaimed: "Here comes Fatty Morehead, the cop. Better late than never," and a general laugh went up from the crowd.
Jess seized Laura's wrist, exclaiming: "Oh, Laura! he will want to take down our names and addresses, too. Let's get away."
The Red Cross girl uttered an ejaculation of chagrin. She began pushing her way out of the press, and in an opposite direction from that in which the portly policeman was coming.
Jess whispered swiftly in Laura's ear: "Come on! Let's follow her! I'm awfully interested in that Red Cross girl, Laura!"
"Why should you be?" asked her chum. "Although she looks like a nice girl, I never saw her before."