entured,
"and was so sorry for you. I did want to help you--to tell that young
woman detective just what I thought. But experience has taught me that it
is not always best to interfere in such cases. It often only adds to the
difficulty."

Dorothy could not find words in which to reply. Whatever she might say
would either seem stupid or perhaps suspicious. And of the subtle ways of
women "sharpers" Dorothy had often heard. It was, she decided, almost
impossible to be sufficiently alert to offset their cunning. Perhaps this
woman was one of that class--an adept at it.

"Is there any particular time you would like Miss Travers to call?"
Dorothy asked, turning the subject sharply.

"I am always at home on Thursdays," replied Miss Brooks, "and she will
have no trouble in finding me. I board at the Griswold."

Dorothy knew the Griswold to be a rest resort, a sort of sanitarium where
fashionable people went to recuperate from home or social duties. This
Miss Brooks did not appear to be in the circumstances of those who
frequented the Griswold, the girl thought.

"I'll tell her," she said simply.

"She is just a friend?" ventured Miss Brooks questioningly.

"A very dear friend," replied Dorothy warmly, at the same moment making up
her mind that the stranger would not learn from her any more concerning
Tavia or her character.

"I thought so," went on her companion. "Well, she is evidently impetuous;
that is why I feel I may help her. Ordinarily I would not interfere--it is
really a trifle risky for me, but she seems so young; and--well, I'll take
my chances this time."

Dorothy was completely mystified. She could not guess at any business or
circumstances which might occasion such remarks. But somehow she felt that
the woman spoke with knowledge of something about Tavia. What that
something might be Dorothy was absolutely at a loss to conjecture.

"I know I surprise you," said Miss Brooks, divining her thoughts, "but
some girls do strange things. Miss Travers is evidently one of them."

Dorothy's cheeks flamed at this remark. Why should she speak so of Tavia?

"I have known Miss Travers since she was a child," flashed Dorothy, "and I
have never thought her--strange."

Scarcely had the words been uttered than all Tavia's pranks and follies
seemed to come up before Dorothy's memory like some horrid, mocking
specters.

Surely Tavia had always done "strange things," and very likely only
Dorothy's powerful influence