Creeping down the stairs as quietly as a mouse, Mollie stole into the back room, adjoining the one where the countess sat. Had she looked in, she would hardly have played her naughty trick. The woman who sat there was a very different person from the gay society lady they had been meeting everywhere in the last few weeks. This woman looked weary and frightened. But Mollie was thinking only of mischief.

Silently she took the mignonette out of her bag and crushed it in her hand. There was a sudden fragrance all about her. Then she slipped her hand slyly through the open doorway and dropped her bunch of mignonette into the room where the countess was sitting. There was no response. The countess had not detected the odor of the flowers and Mollie was deeply disappointed.

Faintly, however, the countess began to be aware of the fragrance of a subtle perfume; but she was thinking too deeply of other things to be conscious of what it was. Besides, the growing darkness was making her nervous.

Mollie gave up in despair. Her effort with the mignonette had plainly proved a failure. The countess refused to be frightened by the suggestion of the ghost.

"Countess!" said Mollie, appearing suddenly in the open doorway. She certainly expected no result from this simple action; but the countess, who thought she was entirely alone, was dreadfully startled. She rose, with a short scream of surprise, and started forward. Her foot catching in a worn old rug, she stumbled. Mollie was by her side in a second, trying to help her to rise.

"I am so sorry to have frightened you!" the child said penitently. "Wait a minute, you have dropped something." Mollie picked up a square chamois skin bag. In her excitement and embarra.s.sment she caught hold of the wrong end of it. Out of it tumbled a purse, and-Mollie saw it as plainly as could be, though it was nearly dark in the room-Mrs. Cartwright's diamond b.u.t.terfly!

"Child!" said the countess, angrily. "See what your nonsense has done!

This is the bag that I wear under my dress to carry my money and jewels.

It is always securely fastened. I suppose, falling as I did, I must have broken the catch." She picked up the things quickly and thrust them into her bag. It was so dark in the room she supposed Mollie had not seen them. Then, holding the bag tightly in her hand, she went on downstairs, Mollie after her, and joined Grace and Mrs. Post, who had preceded them to the automobile.

"Well, did anyone see the ghost?" asked Mrs. Post. "You, Mollie, my child, look as if you had seen something."

"Oh, no," denied Mollie; "but I am afraid I frightened the countess. I threw some mignonette in the room, trying to make her think I was the ghost, but she didn't notice it. Then, when I spoke to her to tell her it was time to come downstairs, she was dreadfully startled."

Mrs. Post ordered the chauffeur to drive home first, as she and the countess had a dinner engagement; the two girls being later taken to Mrs. Ewing's.

The two women had barely left the car before Mollie put her lips near Grace's ear and whispered: "Grace Carter, the Countess Bertouche has stolen Mrs. Cartwright's b.u.t.terfly! I saw it with my own eyes. She dropped it out of a bag on the floor, when she fell down."

"Goose!" smiled Grace. "What are you talking about? Don't you suppose a countess may have a jeweled b.u.t.terfly of her own?"

"Not like that one," retorted Mollie, firmly. "I would know it among a thousand. You needn't believe me, but it's as true as that my name is Mollie Thurston. I am going to tell Ruth and Bab, as soon as I get home.

I know they will believe me."

"I do believe you, only I am so dumfounded I can't take it in," said Grace.

"What on earth is the matter with you, Mollie?" asked Bab of her sister, as soon as they had finished dinner. "You look awfully excited."

"Bab," whispered Mollie, "call Ruth and Grace right away. Don't let anyone else come. Let's go down to the end of the garden. I have something I must tell you, this minute!"

Grace had already found Ruth, and the two came hurrying along. "No, Ralph," ordered Grace, "you can't come. This is strictly a girl's party."

"Bab," began Mollie, "you will believe me, won't you? I do know what I am talking about. This afternoon I saw the Countess Bertouche with Mrs.

Cartwright's diamond b.u.t.terfly. She dropped it, right before my eyes, out of the same kind of bag that Miss Sallie uses to keep her jewelry in. What can it mean?"

"Ruth!" gasped Bab. "Bab!" uttered Ruth.

The two girls looked at each other in silence. Then Bab exclaimed: "It took my Mollie to make the discovery, after all!"

"What are you talking about, Barbara Thurston? What discovery have I made?" demanded Mollie.

"Ruth, do you think I had better tell the girls?" asked Bab.

Ruth nodded, and Barbara related the princ.i.p.al facts of the jewel robbery. She also told the girls that she and Ruth suspected that Harry Townsend had been the robber who frightened them at New Haven. "You remember," Bab continued, "he was a guest at the hotel the same night we were, and left early the next morning. If he had one of the rooms under us, he could have climbed down the fire escape and into his own room before anyone could discover him."

But Bab kept to herself that she and Ruth were expecting another burglary, and that she, Bab, was to play a part in bringing the thief to bay. Mollie and Grace would both be terribly frightened at the thought, but it was just as well that they knew enough not to be surprised at what was to follow.

Barbara went upstairs and wrote a note to the address in Newport that the detectives had given to her. It told the story just recited by Mollie.

"Ralph," requested Barbara, sauntering slowly through the hall, "will you mail this at once with your own hands? Little Mollie has done the deed, after all. She has found the woman who receives Harry Townsend's stolen goods!"

Ralph took the letter with an exclamation of surprise and hurried off to the post.

CHAPTER XXII-THE TENNIS TOURNAMENT

The girls were dressing for the tennis tournament. The games were to begin at noon, and continue until six o'clock. Three hours later the annual tennis ball took place at the Casino.

"You know, Ruth," said Bab, fixing a pin in her friend's collar, as they stood before the mirror, "that the really most important thing in our whole stay at Newport is your winning the silver cup in the tournament to-day."

"Oh!" cried Ruth. "Don't be quite so energetic, Bab. You jabbed that pin right into my neck. I believe I am going to win. I can't imagine a good soldier going into battle with the idea that he is going to be beaten.

Why, an idea like that would take all the fight out of a man, or a girl either, for that matter. No, Hugh and I are going to do everything we possibly can to come out winners. But, if we do, Bab, Hugh and I will think we owe it to you and Ralph. You have been such trumps about keeping us up to the mark with your fine playing."

"Nonsense, Ruth!" retorted Bab, decidedly. "All Ralph and I ask this afternoon is a chance to do some shouting for the winners. What time is the tourney on for the 'eighteen-year-olds'?"

"Just after lunch; about two o'clock, I believe. Bab, are you nervous about to-night?" Ruth asked. "Do you think there is going to be a scene at the ball? The detectives will be watching Mr. Townsend closely. They suspect that he means to make another big attempt, don't they?"

"I really don't know, Ruth," Barbara answered. "I had a short note from Mr. Burton this morning. I meant to show it to you, but I did not have a chance. It simply said: 'Thanks. The game is ours. Keep a sharp lookout!' But I want to forget the whole burglary business to-day.

Tennis is the only really important thing. Hurrah for Miss Ruth Stuart, the famous girl champion!" cried Barbara, then suddenly sobered down.

The two girls had been in the wildest spirits all day. Indeed, Miss Sallie had sent them into the same room to dress, in order to get rid of them.

"What is the matter, Bab?" said Ruth, turning round to look into her friend's face.

"I've a confession to make to you. In my heart of hearts, way down underneath, I am kind of sneakingly sorry for Harry Townsend. I know he is a rogue and everything that's wicked. When I think of him in that way I am not sorry for him a bit. Then the thought comes of the man who has been around with us for weeks, playing tennis with us and going to our parties, and I can't quite take it in."

"I know just what you mean, Bab," replied Ruth, reflectively. "Don't you think it must be the same idea as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Everyone has a good and a bad side. We can't help being sorry for the good part of a person, when the evil gets ahead of it. But, then, you and I have never really liked even the good side of Harry Townsend much. So I wonder why we both feel sorry."

"It's the woman in us, I suppose," sighed Bab.

"Ruth, come in here and let me see how you look," called Miss Sallie.

She had sent up to New York for a special tennis costume for Ruth. The suit was a light-weight white serge skirt with an embroidered blouse of handkerchief linen, and the only color was Ruth's pale blue necktie and the snood on her hair, which was carefully braided and securely fastened to the back of her head.

Gowns were an important part of tournament days; indeed, the New York Horse Show seldom shows more elaborate dressing than does the annual tennis tournament at the Newport Casino.

Mollie and Barbara were the proud owners of two new gowns made by their mother for this special occasion. Bab's frock was a simple yellow dimity, and she wore a big white hat with a wreath of yellow roses round it.

"You're a baby blue, Mollie, aren't you?" asked Grace standing and admiring her little friend. Grace had on a lingerie frock of lavender muslin and lace, and a big hat trimmed in lavender plumes.

"Well," said Mollie, making her a low bow, "lucky am I to be dressed in blue, if it means I may sit near so lovely a person as you. Fortunately, lavender and blue make a pretty color combination."

Miss Stuart had a box for the tennis tournament.