“Oh, yes,” said Judy. “She was the real thing. And she wanted everything quiet. If Minerva Higgins had set up a yowl like that at Queen’s she would have been properly sat upon by Miss Steel.”
If Molly’s mind had been especially acute that evening she would have noticed that her two friends were keeping up a sort of continuous duet as they lingered over their undressing. As it was, she barely heard their chatter because she was thinking of something far removed from thieves and detectives.
“We’ll be called down about the light if you don’t hurry, girls,” she cautioned. “Why are you so slow?”
“By the way, did you know there was a package over here on the table addressed to you, Molly?” said Nance.
“Why, no; what can it be?”
Filled with curiosity, Molly made haste to cut the string around a square pasteboard box. Whatever was inside had been wrapped in quantities of white tissue paper.
“It feels like china,” cried Molly, tearing off the wrappings. “Why it’s——”
“It’s after ten, young ladies,” said a stern voice outside the door.
Judy turned out the light.
“It’s Martin Luther, girls,” whispered Molly.