The instant she saw the girl’s face, she gasped. It was Erma Stone, the Captain’s yeoman. Her face was a sight to behold. She had been sick, all right.
“Perhaps she’s delirious,” Sally thought.
The instant she caught the look of hate and cunning in the girl’s eyes, she knew this guess was wrong.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“I was sent here to make sure you had not been sending messages on this radio.” Miss Stone stood her ground.
“How would you know whether I had or not?” Sally demanded.
“I would—”
“You were not sent here!” Sally was rapidly getting in beyond her depths. “You came of your own accord. Why? I don’t know. But I’ll know why you left!” She took a step forward.
Dodging past her, the girl threw the door open and was gone.
“She was going to send a message,” Sally told herself. “Then I’d get the blame. She couldn’t do that. There is no one to listen at this hour of the night. She—”