When she and the girls entered it, they found it nearly filled with roses. There were no cards except a single one inscribed: "For the Automobile Girls," for Miss Sallie was as much an automobile girl as any of the others. The girls selected the bunches of flowers that seemed most suited to their costumes. Miss Sallie and Grace immediately decided on the white roses, Mollie chose the pink ones, looking in her pale blue dress and hat like a little Dresden shepherdess.

In some one's garden a yellow rose bush of the old-fashioned kind must have bloomed for Bab. "Why!" uttered Miss Sallie, holding up Bab's flowers, from which streamed a long yellow satin bow, "I have not seen these little yellow garden roses since I was a girl. See how they open out their hearts to everyone! Is that like you, Bab? Be careful how you hold them," teased Miss Sallie; "they have a few thorns underneath, and must be gently handled."

Ruth half suspected Hugh had been the anonymous giver of the flowers, as soon as she discovered her own bunch. They formed a big ball of pale blue hydrangeas, tied with Ruth's especial shade of blue ribbon.

"See!" said Ruth, laughing, and holding them up for the other girls to admire. "Hugh was not discouraged by the fact that blue flowers are so hard to find. I wouldn't have dreamed that hydrangeas could look so lovely, except on the bush."

Ruth sat in the front of the box, waiting for her name to be called for her tennis match. She was one of the most popular visitors in Newport; nearly everyone who pa.s.sed her box stopped to wish good luck to her and to Hugh.

"I have seen a good many sights, in my day," said Miss Sallie, gazing around through her lorgnette, "but never one more beautiful than this."

The gra.s.s of the wide lawns was so perfectly trimmed that it looked like a carpet of moss. Over the green there swept a crowd of laughing, happy people, the women in frocks of every delicate color. Even the sober note that men's clothes generally make in a gay throng was missing to-day, for the boys, young and old, wore white flannels and light shirts that rivaled the dresses of the girls in the brightness of their hues.

Tier upon tier of seats rose up around the tennis courts; before the first game was called every one was filled.

"Give me my smelling salts, Grace," said Miss Sallie, when Ruth and Hugh were called out to commence their game. "I shall not look at them until the set is over."

"O Miss Sallie!" declared Ralph, who had quietly slipped into Ruth's place next Barbara. "I am ashamed of you for not having more courage. I am certain they will win. We shall have two silver cups in this box in the next hour or so."

Over the heads of the great crowd Barbara could see the Countess Bertouche. She was standing near Mr. and Mrs. Erwin's box, in which sat Governor and Mrs. Post, Gladys and Harry Townsend.

For the first time in her acquaintance with them, Barbara saw Harry Townsend leave his seat and walk across the lawn with the countess.

Evidently she had made some request of him. Not far off Barbara could also see a tall, blond man, with a curly, light mustache, who followed the pair with his eyes and then moved nonchalantly in their direction.

But Harry Townsend was back with his friends in a minute. He had only taken the countess to her place, so that she need not be alone in the crowd.

Ruth and Hugh were easy winners. They had no such tennis battle as they fought the day they earned the right to represent their crowd over the heads of Ralph and Barbara.

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted the crowd.

Ruth and Hugh were standing near each other in front of the judges'

stand, where the prizes were awarded.

With a low bow, Mr. Cartwright presented Ruth with a beautiful silver cup and to Hugh another of the same kind. On the outside of each cup was engraved a design of two racquets crossing each other, with the word "champion" below.

Barbara and Ruth had given up all their interest and thought to the tennis match during the day; but Ruth having won her cup, both girls'

minds turned to the jewel robbery.

Except for the note Bab had received in the morning, she had had no sign nor signal from the two detectives. The Countess Bertouche, apparently as calm and undisturbed as any of the other guests, had been an interested watcher of the tournament.

The girls were late in arriving at the ball. Miss Stuart had insisted on their resting an hour after dinner, and the affair was in full swing when they entered the beautiful Casino ballroom.

"You're just in time for the barn dance, all of you," called Mrs.

Cartwright. "We are going to be informal for the next half hour, at least. Come, Ruth, I insist on you and Hugh leading off. You are our special tennis champions. Wasn't it hard luck that I didn't win, when my husband was a judge?"

"Miss Thurston," said Harry Townsend, turning suddenly to Barbara, "won't you dance with me?"

Barbara's hands turned cold as ice and her cheeks suddenly flamed. She hated to dance with a man whom she knew to be of the character of Harry Townsend. Yet how could she refuse?

He looked at her coolly, and Bab saw a mocking smile curl the corners of his lips. But he was as smooth and courteous as usual.

"He is the prince of actors," thought Bab. "I was a goose to let him see how I felt. I will show him that I know how to act as well as he does, when I am forced to it."

Barbara accepted the invitation quietly. They took their places with the two long rows of dancers extending down the whole length of the great ballroom.

The barn dance, with its merry, unconventional movement, its swinging music and grace, was generally the greatest joy to Bab. But tonight, in spite of her pretense at acting, her feet lagged. She dared not look into the face of her partner. He was as gay and debonair as usual.

When the dance was over, Townsend asked Bab to walk out on the lawn with him.

As Ruth saw Harry and Barbara walk out at the door, she turned suddenly to the stranger with whom she was talking. "Will you," she said to him, "tell Ralph Ewing I would like to speak to him at once? I want to tell him something that is very important. Please forgive my asking you, but I must see him. I will wait right here until you find him." It was five-ten minutes, before Ralph was found.

Harry Townsend meant to discover what Barbara Thurston knew. She was a young girl, still at school. He was a man approaching thirty, with a record behind him of nearly ten years of successful villainy.

Would Barbara betray herself? Would she "give the game away?"

"Miss Thurston," began Harry Townsend, politely, "as I shall be going away from Newport very soon, I want to have a talk with you. I must confess, that, since the night of Mrs. Erwin's ball, I have been very angry with you. No high-minded man could endure the suggestion you made against my honor, when you asked Hugh Post to search me, so soon after his mother's jewels had disappeared. But time has pa.s.sed, and I do not now feel so wounded. Before I go away, would you mind telling me why you made such an accusation against me?"

"Mr. Townsend," said Barbara, biting her lips, but keeping cool and collected, "is it necessary for you to ask me why I made such an accusation? If it is, then, I beg your pardon. The jewels were not in your possession, certainly, when the search was made. I own I was most unwise."

"Then you withdraw the accusation?" Townsend was puzzled. He had expected Barbara to defy him, to insist he had stolen the jewels, that she had seen him in the act of doing it. He was wise enough to know that, if he could once make her angry, she would betray what she knew.

He had still to discover who the gypsy was that had so strangely revealed to him her knowledge of his crimes.

Barbara's heart was beating like a sledgehammer.

There was a slight movement in the nearby shrubbery. Harry Townsend wheeled like a flash. Barbara turned at the same instant. It was only a stranger who had wandered across the lawn and mistaken the path, but Barbara knew that his presence there meant eternal vigilance.

"O Mr. Townsend," she said, "the music is commencing. I would rather return to the ballroom. I have an engagement for this dance."

Harry Townsend realized he must manage to entice Barbara to a more secluded part of the Casino grounds before he could have a satisfactory talk with her.

"No," he said, "we will not go back yet, I want to talk to you. We must understand each other better, before the night is over. Come!" He spoke in a voice as cold and hard as ice and took Barbara by the wrist.

Barbara could not jerk away or call for help. She decided it was best to follow him.

"You are not running away, are you, Miss Thurston?" It was Ralph's voice calling. "I am sure Mr. Townsend will excuse you, as you have a previous engagement with me."

"Oh, certainly," said Harry Townsend, pleasantly, "sorry as I am to lose Miss Thurston's society." As Barbara and Ralph walked away, he bit his lips savagely. Then he decided to follow the tall man he had seen moving about in the shrubbery. It might be that the man suspected something.

But Townsend found him ten minutes later in the smoking-room, quietly moving around among the men.

"Bab," Ruth had a chance to whisper to her later in the evening, "is it all right with you? I was desperately frightened when I saw you disappear outside with Harry Townsend. Have you noticed something?"

"What?" said Bab, gazing searchingly about her.

"Only," Ruth answered, "that the Countess Bertouche is not here this evening."

Both realized that the first card in the game had been played.