Suppose, Vicki thought in a flash of insight, that the alleged Miss L. Rowe on that flight was actually Miss Dorothy “Somebody.” In that case she wouldn’t dare claim the inscribed charm—it would publicly reveal her to be an impostor. And by now Vicki was convinced that the dark-haired “Lucy” at the Bryants’ house was in fact an impostor.
“Or am I only guessing about the charm?” Well, she could think of ways to find out when she was again in New York. This afternoon she had other points to check.
That telephone number in New York which Lucy said Mrs. Heath had called—apparently a business place—who was at the other end? Vicki tried a bold plan. She asked on her hotel phone for that New York number herself.
She heard the connection go through, heard the San Francisco operator say, “San Francisco calling,” and give the New York operator the number, then a telephone ringing three thousand miles away—ringing as clearly as if it were next door. A crisp, businesslike voice answered. “Two-three-four-five. Good afternoon.”
Vicki was disappointed. She had hoped that whoever answered would say the firm name—if there were a firm name in this case.
“Hello?” said the voice in her ear.
“Hello,” Vicki replied, and swallowed nervously. “This is Mrs. Heath calling.” There, the step was taken!
