" She wrung her hands.
"But no jewels will be found upon us," I argued half-heartedly.
"They will say we have already disposed of them."
"But the real burglar--"
"They will say that he came into the cellar at our bidding."
This girl was terribly reasonable and direct.
"Hang it! I know Teddy Hamilton, the M. F. H. He'll go my bail, and
yours, too, for that matter. Come, let's not give up. There _must_ be
some other way out."
"I wish I might believe it. Why _did_ I come?"--a bit of a wail
stealing into the anger in her voice.
"This is Tom Fool's Night, and no mistake," I assented ruefully.
"But I am a bigger fool than you are; I had an alibi, and a good one."
"An alibi? Why on earth, then, did you follow me? What is your alibi?"
"Never mind now. We should still be in this miserable
cellar,"--briefly. "What a night! I am so ashamed! I shall be
horribly compromised."
"I'll take the brunt of it all. I'm sorry; but, for the love of
Heaven, don't cry, or I shall lose what little nerve I have left."
"I am not crying!" she denied emphatically. "My inclination is to
shriek with laughter. I'm hysterical. And who wouldn't be, with
police officers and cells staring one in the face? Let us be going.
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