“No, but Mary and I were in the hall and we saw some one come down from the attic and go into one of these rooms, and we thought we had better wake you up.”
“They could not have come in here,” said Fannie. “My door was locked.”
Billie looked at her curiously.
“What a little actress you are,” she thought.
“It doesn’t matter, only Mrs. St. Clair had lost something, and we were afraid a thief might be in the house. You know there have been several robberies lately in West Haven.”
Fannie gave her a long and scornful stare.
“At the High School, you mean?”
“Particularly at the High School,” replied Billie gently. Somehow, she felt a sort of contemptuous pity for this unfortunate little creature who had been taught, perhaps by poverty, to stoop to so much villainy.
“What’s all this racket about?” demanded Rosomond McLane, opening her door which was the third one along the passage and thrusting out her merry, round face.
“You didn’t hear anything did you?” asked Billie. “Mary and I thought we saw some one in a ghost dress come down this passage and go into one of these doors.”