"Why—why——" stammered Grace, her eyes growing large with wonder. "I don't understand. I came here at that time, for I looked at the clock as I came in, but I was only here for a second."
Then the truth dawned upon her. "Why, Miss Thompson," she cried, "you surely don't think I tore up your essay?"
"No, Grace, I don't," replied the principal. "But I believe that the one who wrote this note is the one who did do it, and evidently wishes to fasten the guilt upon you. It looks to me as though we had a common enemy. Do you recognize either the paper or the writing?"
"No," replied Grace slowly, shaking her head. "Vertical writing all looks alike. The paper is peculiar. It is note paper, but different from any I ever saw before. It looks like——"
She stopped suddenly, a shocked look creeping into her eyes.
"What is it, Grace?" said Miss Thompson, who had been closely watching her.
"I—just—had a queer idea," faltered Grace.
"If you suspect any one, Grace, it is your duty to tell me," said the principal. "I cannot pass lightly over such a piece of wanton destruction. To clear up this mystery, should be a matter of vital interest to you, too, as this letter is really an insinuation against you."
Grace was silent.