“Take your hat off, Steppy,” suggested Jack, offering to assist her with the task. “We have all been too excited to think of your comfort.”
“Never mind hats,” replied the woman, probing for the pins and promptly setting the big plumed headpiece upon the table like a decoration. “But what I would like to know is, how this little lady got hold of the necklace?” She looked quizzically at Gloria. “Who gave it to you?” she asked earnestly.
“I don’t know,” replied Gloria simply. “It was left on my dresser anonymously.”
At that moment a figure appeared, gliding its way from the screen that hid the doorway.
“Mary!” exclaimed blended voices.
“Yes,” said Mary Mears. “I have come to confess my part in the curious plot.”
Statuesque she stood before them, her ever pale face unlighted by a hint of a smile, and her shadowy eyes like wells too deep for star gleams.
“Mary!” gasped Mrs. Corday, incredulously.
“Yes, our friend, Mary Mears,” said Trixy easily. “Come sit down, Mary,” she continued. “We are just having a little clearing up party.”
But Mary, tragically, remained standing.