There may be something in that," murmured the manager.

"He got my script some way, I tell you!" declared Ruth. "I am not going to
let anybody maul my story and put it over as his own. No, sir!"

"But--but, Miss Ruth!" exclaimed Mr. Hammond. "How are you going to prove
what you say is true?"

"Prove it?"

"Yes. You see, the burden of proof must be on you."

"But--but don't you believe me?" she murmured.

"Does it matter what I believe?" he asked her gently. "Remember, this man
has entrusted me with a manuscript that he says is original. At least it
is written in his own hand. I cannot go back of that unless you have some
means of proof that his story is your story. Who did you tell about your
plot, and how you worked it out? Did you read the finished manuscript--or
any part of it--to any person who can corroborate your statements?"

"Oh, Mr. Hammond!" she cried, with sudden anguish in her voice. "Not a
soul! Never to a single, solitary person. The girls, nor Aunt Alvirah, nor
Tom----"

She broke down again and he could not soothe her. She wept with abandon,
and Mr. Hammond was really anxious for her. He went to the door, whistled
for one of the boys, and sent for Mrs. Paisley.

But Ruth recovered her composure--to a degree, at least--before the
motherly old actress came.

"Don't tell anybody! Don't tell anybody!" she sobbed to Mr. Hammond. "They
will think I am crazy! I haven't a word of proof. Only my word----"

"Against his," said the manager gravely. "I would accept your word, Miss
Ruth, against the world! But we must have some proof before we
deliberately accuse this old man of robbing you."

"Yes, yes. I see. I will be patient--if I can."

"The thing to do is to find out who this hermit really is," said Mr.
Hammond. "Through discovering his private history we may put our finger on
the thing that will aid you with proof. Good-night, my dear. Try to get
calm again."

CHAPTER XX

THE GRILL

Ruth did not go back to her chums until, under Mother Paisley's comforting
influence, she had recovered a measure of her self-possession. The old
actress asked no questions as to the cause of Ruth's state of mind. She
had seen too many hysterical girls to feel that the cause of her patient's
breakdown was at all important.

"You just cry all you want to, deary. Right here on Mother Paisley's
shoulder. Crying will do you good. It is the Good Lord's way of giving us
women an outlet for all our troubles.