The detective rose to go.
“Good day, Miss Campbell,” he said, giving her hand quite a warm grip, considering what a quiet, cold individual he had seemed at first. “You will hear from me again, soon. I had not intended to work when I came down here. You know I am a West Haven boy. My father was old Bill Bangs, the jailer. You probably have heard of him. He was a famous character in his day. I came home to rest and see my people, but when a detective scents a good case he is not apt to let it slip by, even on a holiday.”
“And you think this is a good case?”
“It’s a corking one,” he replied, as he closed the door after him.
Billie and Mary did not go to school that famous Monday. Billie had no mind to face the curious looks she felt certain would be turned upon her by the other girls, because news travels quickly in any school. Mary was lying on her mother’s bed with a throbbing sick headache. All day Mrs. Price sat beside her daughter and held her hand. At intervals she bathed her temples with eau de cologne and whispered:
“My dearest, it will come out all right. Mother loves you and believes in you and so does Billie. Don’t sob like that for my sake, my little girl.”
Belle Rogers also stayed at home that Monday. Mr. Bangs discovered this fact on his second visit of the day when he was closeted for an hour or more with Miss Gray and Mrs. St. Clair in the principal’s private office.
After a tiresome interview with these two well meaning but mistaken ladies, in which he said little and they said much, he left the High School with a sigh of relief.
Presently he found himself in the fashionable district of West Haven. It was the second time he had climbed the street that day, but he was a calm little person, not easily heated by emotion or exercise, and when he rang the bell at the Rogers home, there was just the suspicion of a smile on his face. He sent up his card for Miss Rogers and word was brought back that Miss Rogers was ill and not to be seen. Then, with a pencil, he wrote across the face of the card, “Lafitte—Paris.”
In three minutes the swish of skirts down the steps announced that some one was coming.