That the thief had been apprehended at last was of course understood. Putting two and two together, the Wellington girls concluded that Millicent Porter must have had some important reason for fleeing early in the morning without explanations, leaving two trunks and a debt of honor behind her. The trunks were afterwards expressed, according to directions left in her room.
But, for the honor of Wellington, open conversation on the subject was not encouraged, and most of the talk was in whispers behind closed doors.
A crowd of the girls from the Quadrangle, where most of the pilfering had been carried on, went together to claim their property on Monday evening. Those who had lost money returned disappointed. The box of restored goods contained none whatever. But the other articles were duly claimed and distributed, with the exception of one.
“Does any one know to whom this belongs?” asked the secretary, placing a photograph in a beautiful silver frame on the top of the desk.
“It must be yours, Nance,” announced Edith Williams, with a teasing smile.
“It is not,” said Nance emphatically.
The other girls, now gathered around the picture, began to laugh.
Undoubtedly the small lanky boy in kilts in the photograph was Andy McLean.
“Perhaps it is Mrs. McLean’s,” suggested some one.
Margaret, examining the frame with the eye of an experienced detective, remarked in her usual authoritative tone: