They were at the end of another day. Some time had passed since the Mystery Lady had last appeared in the store. Work had increased; crowds of buyers had grown denser, more insistent in their demands. Two perpendicular lines had appeared between Lucile’s eyes. Cordie, too, had felt the strain of it. Her nerves were tense. She had been upon Lucile’s bed for a half hour, trying to relax. It was no use.
“Why don’t you tell me?” she demanded impatiently.
“I’m afraid it may frighten you.”
“Frighten me?” the girl’s eyes went wide with surprise.
“Yes, but I think I should tell you. It may put you on your guard.”
Cordie sat bolt upright.
“Do you remember the time I found you—when you fainted in the Art Museum?” Lucile asked in a quiet voice.
“I couldn’t forget that. Wasn’t it terrible?”
“More terrible than you think, or at least I believe it might have been.”
“Why?” Cordie stared.