“Shall we take Eleanor into our confidence?” the girl asked.
“Not quite yet. I shall go at once to Mrs. Martin and ask just what she would wish me to do to start an investigation. I do not want to openly accuse one of her pupils, and perhaps have that girl leave the school. It is all very unfortunate.”
They bade the little old lady good-by, and walked slowly through the grove and toward the seminary. It was a gloriously clear day. The freshly fallen snow on the pine branches sparkled and gleamed, while the blue-gray waves of the ocean danced and sang, it would seem, for very joy. It was the first time the sun had shone in weeks and nature was glad. But even the brightness about them could not lighten the load on the hearts of Miss Torrence and Virginia.
The girl went to her class, but Miss Torrence arranged with Miss King to relieve her for at least ten minutes.
Mrs. Martin looked up wonderingly when a tap sounded on her office door. It was 9, and teachers and pupils were usually in the classrooms; but then it might be the housekeeper or even Patrick needing advice.
When the door opened and the young teacher entered, Mrs. Martin exclaimed: “Something is wrong. I can tell by your expression. Be seated, Miss Torrence.”
“I would rather stand. The telling will take but a moment and Miss King, who is with my girls, is due in the music room.”
In as few words as possible, the story was told.
“Why, this is unbelievable!” Mrs. Martin was shocked and amazed. “My natural conclusion is, as was yours, that Kathryn Von Wellering is the only girl who has a personal interest in the destruction of those manuscripts. You say that Anne Petersen was with her when you first arrived last evening?”
“Yes, they were standing in front of the Honor Roll, pretending to scan it, but I now believe that they were waiting to be sure that I was coming to the meeting, as they naturally would not wish to go to Pine Cabin if I were there.”