Part 27 (1/2)

I'll have you connected with her room.”

Evidently, Mr. John James Stone had spoken to Wilhelmina from the office, where he had made careful inquiries: five ladies in a motor car registering from the East; chaperone very distinguished looking.

Billie waited at the telephone. The ordeal of conversing with John James Stone had brought beads of moisture to her forehead. But she was still not sure that the danger was over. A man like that would be capable of keeping himself connected so as to overhear the conversation. The notion flashed into her mind, just as a sweet voice said, ”Yes?” and she determined to take no chances.

”Is this Miss Stone?”

”Yes. Who is this?”

”This is Wilhelmina Campbell”-there was a long pause-”Billie Campbell,” she repeated. ”Evelyn, have you forgotten that day at Fontainebleau?”

Billie had played her trump card now. There was nothing else she could do. But she was glad she had not mentioned Prairie Inn, for instantly the ba.s.s voice interrupted with-”I thought you said school friend?”

”How angry she must be,” thought Billie, ”to have her father eavesdrop on her like this.”

Evelyn did not pause this time.

”How very nice to see you again. Are you stopping here long?”

”Only a few days. But you made me promise to look you up if ever I came to Salt Lake City, and here I am, you see. There isn't very much time.

Perhaps I can see you to-night--”

Billie and Nancy exchanged long, frightened glances. They were meddling in matters which did not concern them, and which Miss Campbell had forbidden them to touch.

”Do come to-night My room is No. 400, on the fourth floor.”

”I'll be there right away,” said Billie, and she hung up the receiver.

”Nancy, you'll have to go to bed, and turn out all the lights. I'm so frightened about what I'm doing. It's wrong, I suppose, but I don't want the others to know anything about it.” She took Daniel Moore's note from her satchel and slipped it in the neck of her dress. ”No. 400,” she repeated to herself, as she hurried from the room. ”He's certain to go up on the first elevator. Fortunately, we're on the same floor.”

She fled down a corridor; turned a corner and hurried down another, almost running into Ebenezer Stone, Evelyn's stern fiance. She heard footsteps behind her, but she did not pause.

”You've been saying good-night, Ebenezer?” said the voice of Mr. Stone.

”Yes, Cousin John; and, by the way, there's a little matter I wanted to see you about--”

Billie heard no more. She had reached No. 400, and old John James would be detained a moment. As she tapped on the door, she drew the letter out of her dress. Instantly the door opened, and Evelyn, beautiful and pale, and very unhappy, stood before her.

”Take this quickly,” whispered Billie. ”Hide it somewhere. It's from Mr.

Moore.”

”Danny!” exclaimed Evelyn, hiding the letter under the pillow.

”Yes.”

”But he's married.”

”He's not anything of the sort. I should think you'd feel ashamed to treat him so badly.”

Billie was standing with her back to the door, and suddenly Evelyn threw both arms around her neck and gave her a good squeeze.