The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(873)
“I don’t account for it, my dear. You’ve been mixed up with so many mysteries that you attach suspicion to the most commonplace events. What should there be about Sarah Judd to frighten anyone?”
“She’s a stranger here, that’s all, and our neighbors seem suspicious of strangers. I’m not questioning poor, innocent Sarah, understand; but if Agatha and her maid are uneasy about strangers coming here it seems likely there’s a reason for it.”
“You’re getting morbid, Mary Louise. I think I must forbid you to read any more of my romances,” said Irene lightly, but at heart she questioned the folks at Bigbee’s as seriously as her friend did.
“Don’t you think Agatha Lord stole that missing book?” asked Mary Louise, after a little reflection.
“Why should she?” Irene was disturbed by the question but was resolved not to show it.
“To get the letter that was in it—the letter you would not let me read.”
“What are your affairs to Agatha Lord?”
“I wish I knew,” said Mary Louise, musingly. “Irene, I’ve an idea she came to Bigbee’s just to be near us. There’s something stealthy and underhanded about our neighbors, I’m positive. Miss Lord is a very delightful woman, on the surface, but—”
Irene laughed softly, as if amused.
“There can be no reason in the world, Mary Louise,” she averred, “why your private affairs are of any interest to outsiders, except—”
“Well, Irene?”
“Except that you are connected, in a way, with your grandfather.”
“Exactly! That is my idea, Irene. Ever since that affair with O’Gorman, I’ve had a feeling that I was being spied upon.”
“But that would be useless. You never hear from Colonel Weatherby, except in the most roundabout ways.”
“They don’t know that; they think I MIGHT hear, and there’s no other way to find where he is. Do you think,” she added, “that the Secret Service employs female detectives?”
“Perhaps so. There must be occasions when a woman can discover more than a man.”
“Then I believe Miss Lord is working for the Secret Service—the enemies of Gran’pa Jim.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“What is on that black ribbon around your neck?”
“A miniature of my mother.”
“Oh. To-night it got above your dress—the ribbon, I mean—and Agatha kept looking at it.”
“A good detective wouldn’t be caught doing such a clumsy thing, Mary Louise. And, even if detectives were placed here to watch your actions, they wouldn’t be interested in spying upon ME, would they?”
“I suppose not.”
“I’ve never even seen your grandfather and so I must be exempt from suspicion. I advise you, my dear, to forget these apprehensions, which must be purely imaginary. If a thousand spies surrounded you, they could do you no harm, nor even trap you into betraying your grandfather, whose present location is a complete mystery to you.”