“The proof of my own eyesight,” Penny said quietly. “For that matter, a number of persons saw the ghost wandering about the grounds.”
Mrs. Botts tossed her head. “I’ve already explained that part. Frequently when I go outdoors, I put on your old white bathrobe, Mr. Deming. It’s warmer than my coat.”
“The ghost happened to be a man,” Penny said. “And here is something you don’t know, Mrs. Botts. I was in this house earlier this evening while you were away. I talked with your mysterious roomer, and I’m satisfied it was my father.”
“So you were here!” Mrs. Botts cried angrily. “Mr. Deming, this girl opened the telegram you addressed to me!”
“I did indeed,” admitted Penny, unabashed.
Mr. Deming arose and walking over to the fire, stood with his back to it. “I confess I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I’ve never had reason to distrust Mrs. Botts.”
“Thank you, sir.” The housekeeper smiled triumphantly.
Penny realized that Mr. Deming was on the verge of swinging to Mrs. Botts’ side. So far the interview had gained nothing. She had told the entire story. There was no further information she could add.
“I suppose we may as well go,” she said, looking miserably at Salt.
Penny arose. Suddenly her eyes lighted upon a small object lying half hidden between the cushions of the sofa. Before Mrs. Botts realized what she was about, she had pounced upon it.