“I see. Well, anyhow, since you’re going to correct the wrong, as far as possible, I can’t see any object in broadcasting the story. That reminds me, I asked Rhoda to tell the girls that you didn’t feel very well and I had taken you home. So the three of us will keep our own counsel.”
“Pat, you’re just the best sport I ever knew!”
“What’s the matter with Clarice?” inquired Hazel, an hour later, as they all sat around the table disposing of steak, potatoes, sugared buns, fried cakes, and coffee.
“She had a chill,” replied Patricia calmly, opening a box of marshmallows; “but she attended to it in time, so I think she’ll be all right tomorrow.”
The subsequent devotion of the black sheep to swimming aroused much comment among the members of the Alley Gang. Many were the theories advanced, but the girl kept her own secret and worked doggedly until she was as proficient as most of her companions.
CHAPTER XVII
A ROBBERY
“Have you seen the paper this morning?” demanded Jane excitedly, waving the Granard Herald overhead as Pat was hurrying down the corridor to her room after breakfast.
“No, what’s in it?”
“Look!” Jane held out the front sheet and pointed to a headline in heavy print:
Daring Robbery. Thieves Make Big Haul.
Victim of losses sits in library while men work in room above. No clews. Mrs. Brock, owner of property, offers reward.
“Why!” gasped Patricia. “How awful!”
A clock somewhere in the Hall struck the quarter hour.
“Oh, I’m going to be late,” cried Patricia, dashing into her room, seizing a couple of books, and running down the corridor. “Have to hear the rest later,” she called back to Jane.
“Pat!” cried Anne, catching hold of her at the door. “Have you seen the paper?”
“Yes, Jane just showed it to me.”
“Isn’t it exciting? All her jewelry, and a lot of money taken.”
“I’m late, Anne; let me go, please!” pulling away from the girl.
At the corner of Wentworth Street, Ruth caught up with her.
“Heard the news?” she panted.
“Yes, but can’t stop; most time for class.”
As Patricia sank, breathless, into a seat in French class, which had already begun, Frances leaned forward from the row behind to whisper, “Know about the robbery?”
Patricia nodded.
“The paper says nobody heard a thing,” continued Frances. “Norman was in his room right next to the one where the robbers were working. Isn’t that thrilling?”
“How do you know?” traced Patricia’s pencil on the margin of her note book.
“Clarice met him this morning, and he told her.”
“Mademoiselle Quinne, continuez s’il vous plait,” requested the Professor’s smooth voice.
It must be confessed that Patricia heard little of the French lesson that day. Her mind was briskly working on the piecemeal information she had received about the disaster at Big House.
“Seems awfully queer,” she commented to Jack later in the day, “that a person or persons would break into a house early in the evening like that. Why, Mrs. Brock or Norman might have walked in on them any minute.”
Jack smiled. “He probably had worked out, by direct observation, when his chances of being undisturbed were greatest.”
“Direct observation?” repeated Patricia.
“Yes; whoever it was knew the layout of the house, the habits of its inmates, and where valuables were kept.”
“Why, Jack!” cried Patricia, her eyes dilating with a dawning suspicion. “Who—”
“Better not put anything into words, Pat,” Jack said quickly; “probably we’re all wrong. I hope so. Let’s try to forget all about it. The authorities will take care of it; it’s their business, not ours.”
In spite of Jack’s good advice, Patricia could not keep from dwelling on the subject rather constantly for the rest of the week, especially since the robbery was the Gang’s principal theme of conversation.
“Mrs. Brock,” announced Katharine on Thursday night, “is offering a large reward for the return of her grandfather’s watch alone. It’s a valuable heirloom, and she cares more for that than for the rest of the jewelry. Don’t I wish I could go out some morning, pick up the timepiece, and take it over to her!”
“I guess none of us would object to some extra money,” laughed Anne. “If you weren’t going home this week end, Pat, we might organize a searching party and beat Kath out.”
“Go ahead, anyway,” advised Patricia, pulling out her bag and beginning to pack it ready for an early start the next afternoon. “You’d better get your things together, Jane; we won’t have any time after lunch tomorrow.”
“Jane going with you?” inquired Anne somewhat wistfully.
“Yes. Want to come, too?”
“Do I! You’re a peach.” Anne hugged Patricia, and departed for her own room, stumbling over the doorstop as she went out.
“Look out, Anne; you’ll break your neck over my coach-and-four,” called Patricia. “She never fails to fall over that,” she added to the girls. “Kath, why don’t you come with us?”
“I’d love to, but what will your mother say to so many of us?”
“She won’t care. My room has twin beds, so I can have guests in comfort whenever I want to; and then we have the regular guest room. You won’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“As if I’d care for that! I’ve done it at house parties.” Katharine departed to announce her good fortune to the rest of the Gang, and then went to pack.
“I envy you, Patricia,” said Jane, the next afternoon, as they were riding through a stretch of woods, “being able to take this lovely ride home any week end you want to.”
“Not whenever I want to,” corrected Pat, “but rather when I have money enough for the gas, and when my work can be left for a couple of days. I can’t do any studying at home, of course.”
“Don’t think I’d care for these woods in the dark,” observed Anne.
“Well, darling,” said Katharine soothingly, “you won’t be in them in the dark.”
“Not a chance,” agreed Patricia. “Dad always starts me back in good time so I won’t be on the road after nightfall. He’s deadly afraid of a hold-up.”
“Good place for wild flowers, I should think,” continued Jane, peering in between the tree trunks. “Don’t you want to stop and gather some, Pat?”
“I do not! I’ve had quite enough experience with wild flowers for a while, anyhow.”
“Ever see your reporter-rescuer?” asked Katharine.
“Once in a while. Jack likes him a lot, and Craig has asked us out a couple of times.”
“Hasn’t he a girl friend?” demanded Katharine.
“I guess not; not a regular, anyhow. But why should you be interested? Aren’t you and the Professor good pals any more?”
“Sure; but there are several nice girls in the