Bab took Ruth’s hand.
“Oh, Bab,” groaned Ruth, “what does it mean? I saw those eyes again to-night and they were Harry Townsend’s. I wanted to scream right out: ‘Burglar! robber!’ But I could not make a scene. I came upstairs, hardly knowing how I reached here.”
One of the maids knocked at the door. “Do the young ladies wish anything? Mrs. Cartwright sent me up to inquire,” she said.
“Nothing at all. Tell her we are all right, and will be down in a few minutes.”
“Ruth,” said Barbara, “I want to tell you something. If I do, can you pretend that nothing has happened, and be perfectly composed for the rest of the evening? Now don’t say ‘yes’ unless you feel sure.”
Ruth looked straight at Barbara, “Yes; tell me what it is,” she urged. “I am beginning to guess.”
“The eyes you saw to-night were Harry Townsend’s, and he is a burglar and a thief. I did not know he was the robber at New Haven; I have only suspected it. Now I feel sure, and you recognized him to-night. He is a more dangerous character than I had thought, and he must not know that you suspect him.”
“He shall know nothing from me,” said Ruth, coolly. Her color had come back, now that she knew the truth. “It was only the shock that unnerved me. Why haven’t you told me before, Bab?”
“I was afraid you’d ask me that, Ruth, dear, and I want to explain. You see, I have believed Harry Townsend a thief ever since I saw him, with my own eyes, take the necklace from Mrs. Post’s neck at Mrs. Erwin’s ball; but you were positive I was wrong, and asked me not to talk about it. So I didn’t know what to do. I have only watched and waited. To-night I told Ralph what I knew.”
Barbara then explained to Ruth the whole story, and the part the detectives had asked her to play in Townsend’s apprehension. “What shall I do, Ruth?” she ended.