“Well, it’s here,” Tavia murmured, with a sigh of relief. “She didn’t make way with it. I wonder——”
She turned the card over. It was the most natural thing in the world to read the brief, typewritten message there:
“Tom Moran disappeared after the Rector St. School fire, two years ago. His Union Card has lapsed. We know nothing about his whereabouts—if he is alive.
“I. K. Tierney, Sec’y.”
“Why—isn’t that funny?” gasped Tavia. “Whoever heard the like? Yes! it’s really got Dorothy’s name on it. Sounds just as though she had asked this man, Tierney, about this other person, Tom Moran!
“I never heard of either of them. What interest can Dorothy have in them? But—hold on!” exclaimed Tavia, suddenly startled by a new thought. “What interest has Miss Olaine in the men—or in Dorothy’s inquiry, whichever it may be?”
CHAPTER XIII
TUNNELING OUT
What awoke Dorothy she could not tell. For the first few moments she lay still, realizing that there was a deadly chill in the air outside of the heavy mass of bedclothing that weighed her body down. The frosty air did not seem at all like the air of the room she occupied with Tavia at Glenwood Hall.
Then—with something of a shock—she remembered that she was not with Tavia, or at Glenwood Hall!
She felt the pressure of the warm little body of Celia, curled up like a kitten in a ball, beside her in the bed of the best room at Mrs. Hogan’s house. There was light enough in the room for her to see the grim, bare nature of the place—its ugly furniture and the plain rag carpet on the floor.