“You do not want to be thanked, I know,” she went on. “And, indeed, I have no words to thank you. But I hope that you will never think hardly of me for having allowed you to shoulder my burden—I know I should not have done it, but it was growing too heavy for me. You came to me like an angel of help. I hope you will always let me be your friend.” She stooped and kissed me, and then, like Julia’s “grey ghost,” she was gone.
CHAPTER XIV
I FIND MYSELF A CONSPIRATOR
HARRY McNAB and two of his ’Varsity friends took a car and went off to Dr. Firth’s immediately after breakfast next morning. They returned some hours later, much disgruntled.
“We thought you would be black-tracking all day,” the girls greeted them. “Have you caught the burglars already?”
“There’ll be mighty little catching done, if you ask me,” was Harry’s reply. “The black trackers can’t come: they’re busy on that murder case up in the Mallee, and can’t be spared for a mere robbery. Dr. Firth’s very disgusted. Of course the police are bobbing about everywhere, but I don’t believe they’ll do any good. There are two Melbourne men down as well—detectives.”
“Very disappointing people,” put in Dicky Atherton. “Not a bit like sleuth-hounds in appearance. I expected to see something of the keen, strong, silent type, like Sherlock Holmes, but they’re more like retired undertakers.”
“And is there no clue to the burglars?” Mrs. McNab asked. I had seen the flash of utter relief in her eyes when she heard that the black trackers were not to come. She was looking better, but was evidently very tired.
“Not an earthly clue! The jewels and the burglars seem to have vanished into thin air.”
“You can be jolly certain that they vanished into a high-powered car,” remarked Mr. Atherton. “Burglars, as careful in their choice of valuables as these people were, don’t do things in a haphazard way: I’ll bet the whole thing was the work of an experienced gang, and that they were all snug in Melbourne, with their loot, before daylight yesterday. Well, it’s a good thing that his loss doesn’t trouble Dr. Firth as far as his pocket goes. But he’s awfully annoyed at being bested—not that he admits that he’s beaten yet, by a long way.”
“No,” said Harry. “I fancy that Dr. Firth will keep his teeth into the matter for quite a while. And it wouldn’t be jam for the thief if he caught him. As Dicky says, it’s the old chap’s pride that seems most deeply hurt.”