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"Don't look so distracted, my darling." "M-m-my g-gold p-p-pencil," she stuttered. "Is that all?" and Foster smiled in relief. "I'll buy you another tomorrow." "Indeed you won't," recovering some degree of composure. "I'll find mine, if I have to search this house from the top to the bottom." "But please see Miss Whitney first," broke in Mitchell. Miss Kiametia cast him a strange look.
Miss Kiametia Grey, who had locked horns with her opponents on numerous subjects, sat back, flushed and victorious; she was beginning to feel the fatigue incident to having borne the brunt of the discussion, and was secretly longing to have the meeting adjourn to the dining-room where she suspected Mrs. Whitney had provided a bountiful supper.
It was several minutes before Miss Kiametia Grey discovered Kathleen's presence. "So very glad you could come," she said, squeezing her hand warmly. "Not only did I want to be helped over the thirteen bugaboo, but I have such a nice dinner partner for you. Captain Miller. Yes, Judge, you are to take me out. Kathleen, introduce yourself to the Captain."
On discovering Miss Grey had it, she made various attempts to get it back. "I found the hypodermic syringe," confessed Miss Kiametia. "It was lying inside the elevator, and I picked it up just after Kathleen was carried from the elevator.
"Is this a seance?" inquired Kathleen, watching the group from the doorway. Another of Miss Kiametia's receiving party had taken her place at the tea-table. "Come and lend Captain Miller your moral support," called Miss Kiametia, while his character is being divulged. "No, you are to sit still," as Miller made a motion to rise.
Miss Kiametia Grey, enveloped in a heavy fur coat, promptly hailed him and as he stood chatting to her in the hall the front door again opened and Henry, the chauffeur, who had been requisitioned to assist Vincent, ushered in Sinclair Spencer. "Good evening, Mrs. Whitney," Spencer's loud cheery voice boomed through the hall, and under cover of his jovial manner he scanned Whitney and his wife.
"I didn't stay there," hastily ejaculated the spinster, crimsoning. "The moment I saw him in bed, I fled." "Was he asleep?" questioned Foster; Miss Kiametia had not told him these details in her description of events at the Whitney residence. "I presume so; his eyes were closed thank goodness!" she added under her breath, and quickly changed the subject "Any news of Julie's whereabouts, Minna?"
A muffled cry, long drawn out, agonizing, vibrated through the stillness. Spellbound, husband and wife eyed each other, then Whitney stepped into the hall just as Miss Kiametia tore out of her bedroom. "What is it?" she demanded. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" clapping her hands over her ears as the cry rose again.
You can see with half an eye that Captain Miller is a gentleman born and bred. All ready? Then I'll run back to my other guests. Come and see me Sunday," and with a friendly wave of her hand, Miss Kiametia returned to the dining-room where the dancers had adjourned for supper.
But Miss Kiametia rose reluctantly, and to gain time to collect her ideas, walked over to the table to gather up her scarf and gold mesh purse. As she picked up the latter a slight scream escaped her. Instantly the two men were by her side. "See, it's missing!" she cried, raising the gold mesh purse with its dangling vanity box. "What is missing?" demanded Foster.
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