Suddenly the tent flap opened, and Grace and Mollie rushed in. Before either of them spoke, they turned and fastened the flap down again securely, so no one could enter without their knowing it.

"What's the matter?" asked Ruth and Bab at once, for it was plain to see their visitors were greatly excited.

Grace and Mollie started talking together. "Mrs. Cartwright's diamond b.u.t.terfly--" then they both stopped. "Are you sure no one can hear?

Mollie, you tell," finished Grace.

"The b.u.t.terfly has gone, vanished right off Mrs. Cartwright's frock, this afternoon, while she was talking to her visitors. You know, she changed the ornament she wore in her hair into a brooch. She showed it to me early this afternoon, when I first came, and now-it is gone! I tell you, girls, there's a thief among these Newport people. I think it, and so does Mrs. Cartwright, and ever so many others. Promise you'll never tell," went on Mollie, "but there are two detectives here watching all the guests! I'd like to find the thief myself. I'd know Mrs.

Cartwright's b.u.t.terfly anywhere."

There were noises at the tent door.

Barbara heard Gladys's high, querulous voice, saying, coquettishly: "I don't want my fortune told, Harry. I would much rather you told it to me any way." But Mr. Townsend insisted.

"Fly, girls-do, please! They are coming in!" said Barbara. "No; you can't get out, but you must stay perfectly still behind this curtain, and not breathe a single word."

It was almost entirely dark in the gypsy tent, the only light coming from the burning pot of fire on the table. Barbara stooped low, when she opened the door to allow Harry, Gladys and the Countess Bertouche to come in.

"It groweth late," Bab began, croakingly. "Evil may come. No good fortunes fall between dusk and darkness. Beware!"

Gladys shuddered. "Let's not go in," she urged.

But Harry Townsend only laughed. "Don't let the old hag frighten you,"

he retorted, lightly. "Here," he turned to the gypsy and spoke in a voice no one of the girls had ever heard him use, "here, you old swindler, speak out! What kind of fate do you read for me in the stars?"

Barbara picked up the pack of dirty cards, and began to shuffle them slowly. An idea was revolving in her head. Dared she do it? But Barbara was a girl who was not easily daunted.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Harry Townsend's Face Grew Livid.]

After a minute of silence she shook her head. "What I see I dare not reveal," she whined. "All black, dark, dark mystery!"

"Oh, stuff!" jeered Mr. Townsend. "Don't try that dodge on me. Tell what you know."

Barbara flung down the cards and blew three puffs into the smouldering pot of fire. Ashes and tiny flames shot up from it. She started back, then pointing a finger, she hissed: "Something is moving toward you, curving and coiling and twisting round you. Mercy!" she cried. "It is a green snake, and its fangs have struck into your soul!"

Harry Townsend's face grew livid. In a moment the look of youth vanished from his face, his lips turned blue, and his eyes narrowed to two fine points.

The Countess Bertouche came forward. "Harry," she said, "come away. You forget yourself. Don't listen to such nonsense."

"Harry!" thought Gladys to herself, angrily. "She certainly presumes on a short acquaintance! Harry, indeed!"

But Barbara had not finished.

"Stay!" she said, holding up a warning finger. "Another messenger appears. It is a beautiful, bright thing, sparkling and darting toward you. Why," she added, quickly, "it is lighting on your coat. It has flown inside-a beautiful b.u.t.terfly, born of summer time and flowers.

Or"-this time Barbara leaned over and whispered in his ear-"or it may be made of diamonds and come from a jeweler's shop."

For an instant, Harry Townsend's hand flew to his vest pocket. He rose, saying quietly to his companions: "Come away from here. Did you ever see such a stupid old fraud? A snake and a b.u.t.terfly-a curious fortune indeed!"

CHAPTER XVIII-A WORD TO THE WISE

Barbara's suspicion was now a certainty. Another person might not have been much wiser from Harry Townsend's behavior during the telling of his fortune. But Barbara's eyes were keen. The thief the detectives were seeking, the "Raffles" who was bowing and smiling his way through Newport society was none other than "Harry Townsend." How to prove it?

That was another matter.

"Bab," said the other girls, appearing on her side of the tent, "what a string of nonsense you did put off on poor Harry Townsend. What on earth made you tell him about a b.u.t.terfly and a snake? I suppose you had b.u.t.terfly on the brain, since we had just told you of the robbery."

"That is true," a.s.sented Bab.

"Ruth!" Barbara turned to her quickly. "I am tired of my job. I want to quit this fortune-telling business at once. Let's desert and go up to Mrs. Cartwright's room and change our clothes. Do hurry!" she urged, a little impatiently.

"Oh, all right, Bab," Ruth agreed. She stared at Barbara curiously. What had come over her friend? Harry Townsend always seemed to have such a strange effect upon her.

Barbara was thinking. How could she find the detectives, to tell them of her suspicions, while Harry Townsend still had in his pocket the jewel he had stolen?

"I want to ask you something, Mollie," Bab announced, as the girls started for the house. "You'll excuse a family secret, won't you?" she asked of Grace and Ruth. "Mollie," Bab whispered, "don't speak out loud.

Do you think you can discover who the two detectives are, and let me know as soon as I come downstairs? Don't ask questions, please; only, I must know."

Mollie shut her lips close together. "Yes, I'll find out for you," she promised.

Half an hour later, as the guests were being served with supper under the trees, Ruth and Barbara made their appearance.

"We just couldn't keep away any longer," they explained to their friends. "Oh, yes, we are feeling perfectly well again."

Barbara called Mrs. Cartwright aside for a minute. "Is it true," she asked, "that your diamond b.u.t.terfly has disappeared?"

Mrs. Cartwright's face clouded. "Yes," she replied. "It has gone within the last hour or so. I had it fastened here on my dress with a long pin.

If it was stolen by a guest, which I am coming to believe, then it was not such a difficult theft. I have been leaning over, laughing and talking, and any light-fingered-woman-or man-could easily have taken it out of my dress."

Mrs. Cartwright shivered and turned pale, as she looked at the gay parties of people out on her lawn. "Isn't it dreadful," she said, plaintively, "to think that there may be a thief right over there among all my friends! But run along, now, child, and enjoy yourself. You and Ruth were the success of the afternoon. Everyone has asked me where I found my clever gypsies."

Barbara wandered off alone. Before she had gone more than a few steps, Ralph Ewing joined her. "Please don't come with me, Ralph," she begged.

"I want to find Mollie."

"Well, why should that prevent my coming along, too?" Ralph asked. "I'd like to find Mollie myself. She hasn't paid the slightest attention to me all afternoon."

"I don't want to be horrid, Ralph," Barbara protested, nervously, "but please let me find her by myself."

"Oh, certainly," a.s.sented Ralph, walking quickly away.

Over by one of the lemonade stands that had been deserted at supper time Bab found Mollie.

"Bab," she said, pulling her sister to one side, "do you see that tall, blond man, with the little, curly mustache? He is one of the detectives.

I can't find out where the other one is."

A little later Ralph Ewing, who was still strolling around by himself, felt his face flush, partly with wounded pride, partly with anger.

Barbara was not talking to Mollie. She was standing some distance off from the other guests, having an earnest conversation with a man whom Ralph knew to be a stranger in Newport.