“What was on it?” Betta could not help asking.
“Just a few words, ‘Goodbye, I love you.’” Nora stopped suddenly.
“The poor, little thing,” commiserated Alma. “And could you find no way to tell who she was or where she lived?”
“I didn’t dare ask anyone outright,” answered Nora, “because you see, I had promised not to tell anyone about meeting her. She was in terror of a man she called Nick.”
“Nick?” repeated a number.
“Yes; she would only say he was a bad man, and I know she feared him for she would tremble so when she mentioned his name.”
Miss Beckwith had remained in the background. If she knew a way to solve the mystery, evidently she did not think the time had come to disclose it.
“But when I found she was gone—I knew what a mistake I had made in not telling anyone about it. Even if she was afraid, I could surely have trusted—Alma,” sighed Nora.
In the semi-darkness none could see the look of affection Alma threw out. Her sensitive soul had found solace in the companionship of the almost equally sensitive Nora.
“I must go,” insisted Nora. “The folks will be home and I am going to tell them about that attic noise tonight, Vita or no Vita.”