“Oh, that old table! Wasn’t it too funny how they fought about it yesterday? I suppose it will be the spinet today. Really that spinet is worth fighting over,” Cara added thoughtfully. “It is a genuine antique.”
“Don’t let’s talk about antiques,” begged Babs. “It gives me the shivers, after the ship model. But say, Cara, I’ve a notion to go to Captain Quiller. He ought to know where the Marcusis would be apt to go to.”
“Bright idea,” agreed Cara, swinging an arm around her companion. “I’ll take you after lunch. Don’t worry in the meantime. I’ll drop in and see if Miss Davis is alive yet.” Cara would do anything and everything to help Babs.
“All right, thanks a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Cara,” said Babs, affectionately. “You see, I’ve lost Glenn.”
“Yes I see,” chuckled Cara. “He runs around with Dud and sometimes they condescend to let me hitch on. But girls are best; aren’t they, Babby?”
“Yes they are, Cara. See what I did by chumming with even a little fellow. I’d give a whole lot this very minute to forget Nicky Marcusi.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“No, I don’t suppose I would either,” amended Babs. “And besides, we have a mystery to ferret out. Who carved the candlesticks?”
“A noble soul whoever he is,” declared Cara, “for Mother declares no one else could have done that work, and Mother always knows—about candlesticks,” said Cara slyly.
“But the boat,” sighed Babs as they were again taking their seats in the auto. “Why will twins inherit valuable war-time convict-prison-made models?”