“Good heavens! I am terrified out of my wits, I would rather it would be a burglar than a ghost. Did you really see something?”
“Forget it,” said Billie. “Go back to bed and lock your door. It was just a shadow, I suppose.”
Fannie had already locked her own door and the girls retreated to their room, somewhat crestfallen, feeling very much like two fighters who had been worsted in battle.
When they had crawled into bed and settled themselves under the covers, Billie gave a deep sigh and whispered:
“Mary, dear, which one do you think it was?”
“There is only one thing that would make me think it was Belle,” replied Mary. “If she had really been asleep, she would have waked and come out to find what was the matter. She is the most deadly curious soul alive.”
“That’s very slight evidence, Mary. She might have been specially tired to-night. Now, I believe it was Fannie. She had such a wild, dishevelled look and her door was locked. She is such a creeping, crawling little thing. Besides, I don’t believe Belle would have had the courage to go up in the attic alone.”
“Billie,” observed Mary, after a short silence, “I don’t know what it is all about, but something is going on around us. I believe that you and I, in some way, are mixed up in some kind of conspiracy. The box of jewels is in it and Fannie and Belle are in it. It’s like seeing a lot of figures moving about through a thick curtain. You know they are there, but you don’t know what they are all doing. I’m frightened, Billie, very frightened.”
Mary gave that dry sob which was just as painful as crying and much worse to hear.
Billie put her arms around her friend and tried to comfort her.