The car stopped at a street intersection. Josie stood up.

"Not to-night," she replied, and alighted from the car just as it
started to move again.

"Bother Mary Louise!" she muttered, "she has made me walk three whole
blocks."

Mary Louise was human and she was provoked. There was really no need
for Josie O'Gorman to be so absurdly mysterious. Had she not known her
so well, Mary Louise would have felt that Josie had deliberately
insulted her. As it was, she blamed her friend for inexcusable
affectation. "I'm not sure," she reflected, "that a girl can be a
detective--a regular detective--without spoiling her disposition or
losing to some an extent her maidenly modesty. Of course, Josie has
been brought up in an atmosphere of mystery and can't be blamed for her
peculiarities, but---I'm glad _I'm_ not a detective's daughter."

Josie, however, wasn't worrying over any resentment her friend might
feel at the necessary snub. She was on a keen scent and already had
forgotten her meeting with Mary Louise. Three blocks farther on she
turned into the walk leading to an old but picturesque residence, at
one time a "show place" of Dorfield and the pride of the
Dudley-Markhams, but now overshadowed by modern and more imposing
mansions.

Josie rang the door-bell and presently the door was opened by a young
and rather untidy maid.

"I'd like to see Professor Dyer," said Josie.

"He's gone to Washington," was the reply.

"Indeed! Are you quite sure?"

"Yes," said the maid; and then Mrs. Dyer's head appeared in the opening
and she gave Josie a curious if comprehensive examination. Then:

"If you're from one of the schools, I'm sorry to tell you that
Professor Dyer went to Washington by the early train this morning. I
don't know how soon he will be back. Professor Harrington of the High
School is in charge. But perhaps it is something I can do?"

"No, thank you; I can wait," said Josie, and went away.

"So," she said to herself, as she made her way back to town in a street
car, "if Dyer has really gone to Washington, he hopes to get possession
of the old desk and its hidden papers. Pretty important to him, those
papers are, and I wouldn't blame him for chasing them up. But--has he
really gone? Mrs. Dyer thinks so; but all evidence points to the fact
that she's not in her husband's confidence. Now, if Dyer is on his way
to Washington, what did last night's secret meeting mean? His absence
will complicate matters, I fear. A