“Better get it hid in some place,” suggested Edna. “If Dick comes along she’ll smell the stuff.”
“Put it back! Put it back,” begged Cologne. “Somehow I feel we had better not try to have fun on Jean’s account. She might make trouble for us.”
“Who cares about her trouble,” snapped Tavia. “Besides, we don’t know to whom the stuff belongs. There, I’ll put the note on the table, I guess that’ll be sweet enough for her.”
Scarcely had this speech been finished when a gliding figure, in a gorgeous red kimono, turned into the corridor where the three girls stood. It was Jean Faval. She came directly up to the table, smiled pleasantly, said something about being tired, picked up the note and turned away, with a most surprisingly pleasant and affable good night.
The girls were speechless!
“What do you think of that?” exclaimed Edna, as soon as she could command her tongue.
Tavia carefully took the boxes out of her blouse, and very gingerly set them down again on the table.
“There,” she said, “Miss Jean Faval there’s your candy! I believe it’s poisoned!”
“Yes, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she had fixed up those boxes herself, with the idea that we, or my little dog might bite. But we won’t. Let them stay there,” and the three sauntered off to room nineteen—the one occupied by Dorothy and Tavia.