"I know the right girl didn't sign the slip," he had told Jane and Judith, "because that black haired one has a queer name and she isn't Sarah Howland."
So the precious package was for little Sarah Howland. And it was being sent to her, care of Dol Vin. Also, and more important than either particular, the delivery of that message had landed Judith Stearns in court.
Was it any wonder ghosts had been crowded out of the day's or night's programme?
"Don't worry," calmly advised the heroic Judith. "What happened this afternoon is only an introduction. The real thriller is yet to come."
"When?" anticipated Velma.
"Oh, it threatens to be a serial. I may be able to give you a reel or two tonight after study hour."
"Come down to my room," begged Janet. "I have such a big couch and a whole raft may pile up on it."
"That's a good idea," agreed Jane as the last towel was tossed into its basket. "Besides, we haven't a thing to eat in our quarters and what's a good yarn without grub? Land sakes, hear the crockery! We'll miss the hash, I fear me," and only the restraining influence of Miss Fairlie in the lower hall saved a third rail flight via ballustrades.
Sweeping into the dining room Jane's eyes seemed attracted to a corner in freshmen's quarters. It might have been her excited imagination or pure incident, but she did look straight into the frightened blue eyes of little Sarah Howland.
For the fraction of a second there was something like a clash.
Jane's look was one of indignant question while the other
unmistakably showed fear. Then Shirley Duncan said something to
Sarah and the connection was severed.