“Do you mean there was a duplicate key?” demanded Scott.
“There must have been. Clever chap to ferret it out,” replied Hard, breezily.
“Mighty clever. I could open a door myself with a key in my hand,” muttered Scott, as he turned away. “Well, he’s gone and the car’s gone and we might as well go back to bed.”
“Just one moment.” Polly’s voice was clear and firm. “I think you owe me an apology, Mr. Scott.”
There was a suppressed chuckle from the rear where the train gang still lingered. Scott stiffened and cleared his throat consciously.
“I apologize,” he said; then, as he saw the others disappear down the street, “Will you shake hands?”
“Not right now; I’m going to think it over,” said the girl, coolly. “I think you should have known that I wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
“Well, I did know it, of course,” confessed Scott, helplessly. “But——”
“But you didn’t believe it.” Polly’s voice was cutting. “Well, next time have a little more faith in your friends, Mr. Scott,” and the blanketed figure disappeared into the house.
“She had you there,” observed Mrs. Van. “Well, go home to bed before you wake up Jimmy—it’s a wonder he’s slept through this all right.”