The Mystery of the Secret Band. Lavell Edith

into the music room with me,” said Mrs. Hilliard. “I see one of our newest arrivals here – a young girl who came only last week. She can’t be more than nineteen or twenty. I think you’d like each other.”

      The girl, an attractive brunette with a gay manner and a little too much lipstick, was standing beside the radio, turning the dials. She looked up as Mrs. Hilliard and Mary Louise entered the room.

      “Miss Brooks, I want you to meet a friend of mine – Miss Gay,” said Mrs. Hilliard. “Perhaps I’d better say ‘Pauline’ and ‘Mary Louise,’ because I know you young people don’t bother with last names.”

      The girls smiled at each other, and the manager went towards the door.

      “Would you be good enough to take care of Mary Louise – introduce her to any of the other guests who come in – Miss Brooks? I have to go back to the desk, for the secretary has gone home.”

      “Certainly,” agreed Pauline immediately. She turned on some dance music. “What do you say we dance?” she asked Mary Louise. “And does everybody call you by both names?”

      “Most people shorten it to ‘Mary Lou.’ Yes, I love to dance. That’s a dandy fox trot.”

      The girls stepped off, Pauline talking gayly all the time, asking Mary Louise all sorts of questions: where she was from, how long she was going to stay, and so on. Mary Louise answered pleasantly, happy to have found a new friend. It wouldn’t be so bad without Jane, now that she had found a girl near her own age in Philadelphia, although she thought that Pauline was probably nearer twenty-five than twenty. Middle-aged people like Mrs. Hilliard weren’t so good at guessing young people’s ages, unless they had children of their own.

      “I wish I could take Pauline into my confidence,” thought Mary Louise, “and have her help me the way Jane did. It would be so much nicer.” But she knew that would not be wise: her father and Mrs. Hilliard wanted her to keep her job a secret. However, she did make it a point to ask Pauline a few questions in return for those she had answered. Not that she was interested in Pauline as a suspect – the girl had only arrived last week, Mrs. Hilliard said – but because she really wanted a young companion while she was in this strange city.

      “My parents are dead,” Pauline told her. “I have a rich aunt who usually stays at the Ritz when she’s in Philadelphia, but I don’t care enough about her to live with her. I sort of flit from place to place, and write fashion articles for the magazines whenever my income runs short. I have a pretty good time.”

      “Have you ever stayed at Stoddard House before?” asked Mary Louise.

      “No, I usually avoid women’s places like Y. W. C. A.’s and girls’ clubs,” was the reply. “But this sort of looked different to me, and I thought I’d give it a try. It’s pretty good, don’t you think?”

      “I like it very much.”

      By this time half-a-dozen people had entered the room, and two more couples were dancing. Suddenly Mary Louise felt bewildered. How could she possibly get to know so many people in the short space of two weeks and hope to find the thief?

      The music changed, and the other dancers left the room. Apparently the dining-room doors were open.

      “Gosh, I couldn’t introduce you to any of those women, Mary Lou,” said Pauline. “I don’t know any of their names.”

      “Oh, that’s all right,” agreed the young detective. “I’m not feeling a bit lonely.”

      “Let’s go eat – or are you supposed to wait for Mrs. Hilliard?”

      “No, she told me not to. She’s such a busy person, she has to snatch her meals whenever she can. But I’ll be with her in the evenings.”

      “Exciting life!” observed Pauline. “Maybe I can rake up a date for you later. I’ve got one myself for tonight, and I’ll sound Ben out. If he can get hold of another fellow for tomorrow night – ”

      “Oh, I don’t think I better make any plans,” interrupted Mary Louise. “Though I do appreciate it a lot, Pauline. But you see I am Mrs. Hilliard’s guest. I have to consult her.”

      “O.K.”

      The two girls went into the dining room, an attractive place, with tables for two and four persons, and chose one of the smaller ones.

      “We don’t want any of the old dames parking with us,” observed Pauline, glancing at a couple of elderly women just entering the room. “They cramp my style.”

      “Rather,” laughed Mary Louise, though she secretly wished she might meet some of the “old dames,” as Pauline called them. Any one of them might be the thief.

      Pauline Brooks was very different from the girls of Riverside – not nearly so refined, Mary Louise thought – but she was a gay companion and made witty remarks about everything. No doubt she was a clever writer.

      Just as the girls finished their excellent dinner, Mrs. Hilliard came into the room. Pauline stood up.

      “I’ll be running along, Mary Lou,” she said. “Now you have company I better leave you and get dressed.”

      Mary Louise smiled. “Have a good time – and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      “Not too early!” warned Pauline. “I’ll probably be dancing till the small hours tonight.” She left the room, and Mrs. Hilliard sat down in her place.

      “Will you stay here with me while I eat my dinner, Mary Louise?” she asked.

      “Yes, indeed,” replied the girl.

      “And did you enjoy your dinner?”

      “It was wonderful! Just like a fine hotel.”

      “I think Stoddard House is a fine hotel – on a small scale, of course… And now I have a suggestion to offer for tonight,” she continued as she ate her dinner. “Some of the regular guests here have a book club which meets once a week. I seldom go to the meetings – I never seem to have time – but I thought I could take you tonight, and in that way you would get acquainted with some of these people. Though I don’t suppose you’ll find the person we’re looking for among them. Thieves aren’t often book lovers.”

      “But it will help me to get the people sorted out, and I am so at sea,” said Mary Louise. “I think it is a fine idea, Mrs. Hilliard. What time does the club meet?”

      “Seven-thirty. But we’ll go to my room first, and you can copy down the names of all the guests, and their room numbers.”

      “Oh, that’s great!” she cried, thankful to be getting at something definite to start with.

      As soon as Mrs. Hilliard finished her dinner she and Mary Louise took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked down the long corridor to the back of the hotel. Here was Mrs. Hilliard’s own private apartment, a cozy suite of three rooms and a bath.

      Mary Louise settled herself comfortably in an armchair and took out her notebook.

      “Do you want the names of the maids?” asked Mrs. Hilliard as she picked up some papers from her desk.

      “No, not yet,” replied the girl. “You believe in their innocence, so I think I’d rather study the guests first.”

      Mrs. Hilliard handed her a paper, a methodical list of the bedrooms on the second and third floors, and Mary Louise copied it, just as it was, into her notebook:

      “You have quite a lot of empty rooms, haven’t you, Mrs. Hilliard?” inquired Mary Louise, when she had finished her copy.

      “Yes. It’s always dull at this time of year. And we never are very full. After all, it’s rather expensive, with wages on the scale they are now.”

      “How much do you charge?”

      “Fourteen dollars a