“Could they find out where the tickets were printed?” asked Bess.
“Not just by looking at them,” answered Miss Magin. “The bogus ones looked for all the world like the real ones, even to the company’s name that was printed on them. But the opera house manager kept those my friend and I turned in and said he’d make an investigation. Say! I felt pretty cheap when it turned out I’d bought bogus tickets with my friend’s money.”
“Oh! you couldn’t help it,” Cora said, her chums murmuring their agreement.
“Well, I meant all right,” Miss Magin went on, “but I cost my friend more than if I hadn’t a’ been so soft-hearted wanting to help out those fellows who told a hard-luck story.”
“They’ll be caught some day,” declared Bess. “Printing bogus theatrical tickets isn’t easily done. Care has to be used, and sooner or later those fellows will be arrested.”
“The sooner the better,” said Cora. “I want my car back.”
The girls and the manager talked for some little time longer about the happenings of the night before. Presently a man alighted from a taxicab, or rather, one of the town’s few jitney cars, and entered the tea room. He looked rather sharply at our friends—at least so Cora thought—and, taking a seat at a table not far away, ordered a cup of coffee and a sandwich.
He spoke casually to the waitress, and as Miss Magin, as was her custom, walked up to see if the service was satisfactory, he spoke also to her pleasantly, and she replied.
“Was it one of the young ladies here who recently purchased some bogus theatre tickets?” the man asked, after some casual remarks.
“I hope you haven’t any more to sell!” retorted the manager, a bit sharply.