When Billie had finished the strange tale, Miss Campbell looked at her with a peculiar expression.
“It’s a very remarkable story, my dear. And if I did not know you as well as I do, I could almost think you had imagined it. And I was there all the time. You should have confided in me. The woman was insane, I suppose.”
“She was not,” insisted Billie. “She was perfectly sane and very beautiful. The man who calls himself ‘Lafitte’ is not the right person, and he shall not have the jewels until I hear from her or from the right Lafitte. You may be sure he will not dare have me or any one else arrested. We know too much about him already.”
“But what are we to do with the things, child? They have brought nothing but trouble on you since you have had them.”
“Suppose you put them in your safety box at the bank for a few days. There is something much more important than this at stake now. Mary has been accused of being a thief by Mrs. St. Clair and Miss Gray. It is a terrible thing. Mrs. St. Clair wouldn’t listen to reason.”
Billie related to her cousin what had happened the day before and the chain of events which led up to it.
“Oh, poor dear Mrs. Price! My unfortunate friend. What shall we do, Billie?” exclaimed the sympathetic little woman.
“I don’t know yet, Cousin Helen. The whole thing is too much for me, but I have a scheme. Are there any detectives in West Haven?”
“Call up the police station,” her cousin suggested, and presently Billie’s voice could be heard in the hall:
“Have you a good detective? Bangs, you say. Send him to Miss Campbell’s please; upper Cliff Street, and the sooner the better. Good-by.”