Instead of a one o’clock luncheon that day the Wayfarers sat down to a one o’clock breakfast. It was noon before they awoke from the sound sleep they were so much in need of after their all-night vigil.
That day there was a new face at the breakfast table. It was a vividly beautiful face lighted by a pair of soulful, dark eyes. Dolores, the wood nymph, had been transformed over night into Dolores, the young woman. Dressed in one of Patsy’s white morning frocks, her heavy black hair rolled into a graceful knot at the nape of her neck, Dolores bore small resemblance to the ragged, bare-footed waif of the night before.
Now those small bare feet which had sped so swiftly through the darkness for help were for the first time in years covered by slippers and stockings. Though Dolores was too shy to say it this one particular feature of the transformation seemed to her the most wonderful of all. “To go always with the feet bare” had been her greatest cross.
Seated between Bee and Patsy at table her gaze wandered questioningly from one to another of the Wayfarers, as though unable to credit the evidence of her own eyes. She could hardly believe that she was in the midst of reality. It all seemed like a dear dream from which she would soon awaken, only to find again the old life of poverty, harsh words and blows.
Naturally, the Wayfarers had a good deal to say. They were still brimming over with the excitement of the night’s events, the final touch of melodrama having been furnished by the finding of the knife on the floor of Patsy’s and Bee’s room.
Recovered from the momentary shock sight of the murderous weapon had given them, the finders had agreed that there was no use in exhibiting it to the others just then and stirring up fresh excitement.
Patsy reserved it as a breakfast surprise. She created not a little commotion when she produced it at the table for her companions’ inspection, coolly announcing that Rosita had left her a keepsake. The weapon went the round of the table to the tune of much horrified exclamation, as its formidable, razor-like double edge was shudderingly noted.
“I can’t imagine why your father hasn’t returned, Patsy,” remarked Miss Carroll for the fifth time since they had sat down to breakfast. “I am beginning to feel very uneasy over his continued absence.”
“I don’t believe we’ll see him until evening,” returned Patsy. “It must have been daylight before he got through with Rosita’s case. He had two business engagements in Miami to-day. Don’t you remember? He mentioned them to us at dinner last night?”
“I had forgotten that,” admitted Miss Carroll. “It’s hardly to be wondered at. I wish he would come home. I am all at sea about what we ought to do. Now that this horrible lunatic has been removed from here and her villainous grandson has decamped, it is just possible we may have a little peace and quiet. Do you think this rascal Carlos meant what he said to you, Dolores?”