CHAPTER XV
A TELEPHONED WOOING
“Yes, little girl—it’s Tommy. Are you alone?”
“Yes—where are you?”
“Never mind—it’s all right. Now, listen, child—is that story true, about your taking the scarab from—from her hand?”
“Yes, Tommy.”
“Why did you do it?”
“It was yours and you cared a lot for it. She had no right to it—had she?”
“Well—no. But I fear it’s going to get you into trouble.”
“Yes—I am in trouble. They say I killed her.”
“Did you?”
“Oh, Tommy! Don’t! How can you say such a thing?”
“Look here, dear, before we go any further—do you think I killed her?”
“Oh—I don’t know”
“Do you think so?”
“I did think so. I saw you run away—and”
“That’s enough. Then, at least, that proves you didn’t do it!”
“Why, I just told you I didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, so you did”
“How queer you are, Tommy. Aren’t you ever coming back?”
“No—I think not.”
“Oh”
