“Dress rehearsal to-morrow night, remember,” Tanner cautioned. “Bond raked me over the coals to-day. I’ve got sixty sides for next week, and I’ve hardly glanced at the script. It is up to me to pound all day to-morrow.”
Miss Lydecker came over and joined them. “The party is breaking up. I’ll have the cars sent around,” she said.
“That’s thoughtful of you, Miss Lydecker,” replied Tanner. “What a hostess you are!”
“You must not forget next Saturday night,” she cautioned both of the men. “We’re going to have a real party. It’s my birthday. Daddy has promised me an orchestra from New York.”
“You could not keep us away,” murmured Tanner.
Klein, who had been watching her closely, suddenly spoke. “I notice, after all, Miss Lydecker, that you have taken heed of my warning.”
“What warning?” she asked, frowning.
“About the brooch. You have put it away.”
The girl’s hand went quickly to her collar, and instantly she paled. “The—the brooch,” she gasped; “it’s—gone.”
“You didn’t take it off yourself?” cried Klein.