There was no way out. Dale and the two girls came into the room, stopped and stood speechless. Blackberry looked up at them as though expecting to be commended for sounding the warning.
“That cat’s as good as a watchdog,” Dale broke the silence by saying.
“I suppose I do look something like a burglar,” Judy retorted. “I’m not going to apologize for anything either. I simply had to know.”
“Know what?” Pauline asked.
“She wanted to find out if I took the lost poetry,” Dale explained. “That’s clear enough, and don’t think for a moment that I blame her. Any good detective would have done the same thing. Being a comparative stranger, I am the logical one to suspect. Irene, we all know, is above suspicion.”
“Well then, who did take the papers?” Pauline asked.
Dale only shook his head, refusing to propound any more theories about the affair. Judy turned to him gratefully.
“I felt sure you would be dreadfully mad at me for snooping in your personal belongings,” she said. “It’s nice to have you uphold me in my crude bit of detecting, and I do appreciate it. What puzzles me is this: nobody left the room ahead of you except——”
“Except me,” Irene broke in, “and you may be sure I didn’t take those papers.”
“We’re sure, aren’t we?”