“But then, of course it couldn’t. A crimson trail—a crimson trail——”
“Here’s one for you,” exclaimed Cordie, setting a delicious cream-puff before her. “There’s just time for devouring them before we go back to work. Work! Oh, boy! I say it’s work! But it’s heaps of fun, anyway.
“Say!” she exclaimed suddenly, “Do you know James?”
“Who is James?”
“The man who carries away the packages from my desk.”
“A stooped old man.”
“Not a bit of it.”
“They always are.”
“He’s not. Take a look at him. He’s a sight for tired eyes. He—he’s intriguing. I—I’m working on him. He’s awful reserved, but I think he likes me. He’s got a story. I’ll get it. Leave that to me.”
“So even little Cordie loves mysteries and has found one to study out,” thought Lucile with an amused smile as she turned to go.