Beads suggested the trunk secret to Gloria’s mind, and even the brown, slinking, silky gown, that should have been put away in a box, and wasn’t, hinted the iridescent grandeur that lay so helplessly in the top of the strange trunk. That, and the big gem labelled “Precious” in the envelope, and the consequent necklace all were now recalled.
“Yes,” she was deciding, “it surely must have been Jack’s trunk. But what could the materials have been used for? And if the stone in the envelope really were precious why should it have been left to the uncertain travel of ordinary baggage?”
In line with that secret reasoning Pat uncannily remarked:
“You know, I have always thought Jack is just hiding something with all her show off. I wouldn’t wonder but she’s as deep as a well underneath the surface.”
“Why should she hide anything?” Gloria asked. They were on the second landing and now safe from possible interruptions.
“The Steppy, you know. She surely is a queer one. You just ought to hear her pass remarks, about one o’clock A. M. in the lower hall with the mezzanine floor lined with listening ladies! What the girls don’t guess isn’t worth considering. Guessing is their one strong line. But I like Jack, you know, Gloria, and I’m not catty enough to join in the slaughter.”
“I can’t see why girls are so—so snobbish,” returned Gloria.
“Born that way, like hare lips,” said Pat, now ready to “peek” in the office door, which, like others, stood ajar.
“Oh!”
Both girls exclaimed, for instead of peeking in the door they almost collided with demure little Miss Taylor.