Tommy thought for a moment.
“That all seems fairly clear and straightforward, Miss Hargreaves,” he said after a minute or two. “I take it that you have no special reason for attaching suspicion more to one person than another? You are only afraid it might prove to be—well—not a servant, shall we say?”
“That’s it exactly, Mr. Blunt. I have honestly no idea who used that piece of brown paper. The handwriting was printed.”
“There seems only one thing to be done,” said Tommy. “I must be on the spot.”
The girl looked at him inquiringly.
Tommy went on after a moment’s thought.
“I suggest that you prepare the way for the arrival of—say, Mr. and Miss Van Dusen—American friends of yours. Will you be able to do that quite naturally?”
“Oh! yes. There will be no difficulty at all. When will you come down—tomorrow—or the day after?”
“Tomorrow, if you please. There is no time to waste.”
“That is settled, then.”
The girl rose, and held out her hand.
“One thing, Miss Hargreaves, not a word, mind, to anyone—anyone at all, that we are not what we seem.”