As she hung up the receiver Josie’s face wore a puzzled frown.
“It’s a riot of a mess,” quoth she, unbuttoning with quick jerks her mannish-looking dress of dark blue linen. Then, having dropped it on the floor, she kicked it with well directed aim into the corner. Her remark could have been applied most aptly to her attire then, as it lay a forlorn and crumpled heap. Evidently her thoughts were far from those four walls. That any of her garments remained within reaching distance was not due to Josie’s care, for with little kicks one small pump lodged precariously on the window ledge, while its mate nestled more securely in the waste basket. But Josie was puzzling over a problem, and it was not coming out as clearly and as quickly as it might. These automobile robberies were discouraging matters to trace, when one realized how far one could drive a car in a few days and especially when such a clever crook as this forger, O’Hara, was at the wheel.
Josie jumped into her bright pink pajamas, finally produced her little bedroom slippers from her hat box, and covered herself with a warm bathrobe of most brilliant hue. This done, she turned a further glare of light upon the desk, pulled out a box of salty crackers and proceeded to sit there and eat and think.
To all appearances, however, the crackers vanished quicker than the problems and Josie’s head began to nod. Finally with a shrug she admitted, “I can’t make head nor tail out of the thing to-night. I’ll go to sleep and be a brighter detective in the morning.”
So saying, she turned out the light, made sure her little revolver was safely under her pillow, and without a thought of the night outside, she climbed into bed and was instantly asleep.
Josie O’Gorman’s slumbers were not undisturbed very long. For suddenly piercing even to her sleep-drugged ears came the quiet hum of a motor very near indeed. Instantly she was wide awake and reaching for her bathrobe.
Yes, there was the same sound only growing fainter. She rushed to the window but could see nothing whatever, the moon was completely covered by the clouds and the automobile had no lights. Josie placed the revolver in the pocket of her bathrobe and stole quickly from the room.
Her one idea was to waken Mary Louise immediately. Even as Josie entered Mary Louise’s room, she felt a sense of someone quite near and very much awake. There was no time to rouse her girl friend; she was perhaps safer sound asleep. Without turning the switch, Josie made her slow, careful way toward the open window. The scent of the lilies from the garden was blown to her as she neared the balcony, her little revolver held steady and ready for action.
Suddenly some pebbles from the path below were tossed again at the window pane. Josie drew back waiting. The tiny patter came again; and then as she still waited tensely, a man’s voice called “Mary Louise!”
Instantly all Josie’s faculties were alert. This man was undoubtedly O’Hara, the fugitive from justice. Perhaps he intended to frighten Mary Louise into hiding him about the premises; perhaps it was the combination of the safe he wished to extort from her. Whatever it was, she realized that she—Josie O’Gorman—daughter of John O’Gorman, expert detective, was there to save her friend.