“What for?”
“To send a telegram.”
“Your report?”
“Yes.”
“Important?”
“I think it’ll bring things to a climax.”
“The Hathaway case?”
“You can guess anything, Nan, if you guess long enough.”
Nan rose and put the revolver in her pocket. Then she held out her hand frankly to Sarah Judd.
“If you’ve beaten me in this affair,” she said, with no apparent resentment, “you’re clever enough to become famous some day. I’m going to take your advice about the letter and if that climax you’re predicting arrives on schedule time I’ll not be sorry to quit this dreary, dragging case and pick up a more interesting one.”
The tone was friendly and frank. Sarah stretched out her hand to meet that of Nan and in a flash a handcuff snapped over her wrist. With a cry she drew back, but a dextrous twist of her opponent’s free hand prisoned her other wrist and she at once realized that she was fairly caught.
“Fine!” she cried admiringly, as she looked at her bonds, “What next, Nan?”
But Nan was too busy to talk. She deftly searched the girl’s pocket and found the notebook. The shorthand writing caught her eye at once but the characters were unknown to her.
“Cipher, eh?” she muttered.
“A little code of my own invention,” said Sarah. “Sometimes I can’t make it out myself.”
Nan restored the book and examined Sarah Judd’s purse.
“They keep you well supplied with funds, it seems.”
“Comes handy in emergencies,” was the reply.
“Now let’s go to your room.”
Sarah, handcuffed, led the way. Nan Shelley made a wonderfully rapid search through every article in the maid’s room. The lining of her clothes was inspected, her hair-brush tested for a sliding back, the pictures on the wall, the rug and the bed-clothing examined minutely. Yet all this consumed but a brief period of time and resulted in no important discovery.
“Feel better?” asked Sarah cheerfully.
“You know I do. I’m going to remove these handcuffs, now, and then I’m going home. Come and see me, some time when you feel lonesome. I’ve only that fool Agatha to talk to and I’ve an idea you and I might interest each other.”
As she spoke she unlocked the manacles and dropped them with a slight click into a concealed pocket of her dark skirt.
“I imagine Agatha isn’t REAL brilliant,” returned Sarah; “but neither am I. When I’m your age, Nan, I hope to be half as clever. Just now you can twist me around your finger.”
Nan regarded her seriously.
“I wish I knew what you are up to,” she remarked suspiciously. “You can scarcely conceal your joy, my girl, and that proves I’ve overlooked something. You’ve puzzled me, youngster as you are, but you must remember that I’m working in the dark while some mysterious gleam of knowledge lights your way. Put us side by side, on the same track, and I wouldn’t be afraid of you, Sarah Judd.”