"I found it in the south wing," she said hesitatingly.
"Ah!" The word was exhaled triumphantly. "In the lower end of that wing?"
She recalled the tall, acrobatic visitor of All Saints' Eve. She had always suspected Beverly and her suspicions had been confirmed when Admiral Ashby asked her to sanction visits from Athol and Archie. "You did quite right to come to me with this letter. It is far too serious a matter to be dealt with by my subordinates. I highly commend your discretion. I shall sift the matter to the bottom."
Eleanor winced. That "sifting" might change from a small affair to a large one, as a snowball may grow into an avalanche. Then she said with well-assumed contrition, "Oh, Miss Woodhull, I would not for the world accuse _anyone_. It may be just fun----"
"There is no element of fun in such a letter as this, and absolutely no humor. I have realized for some time that a decided atmosphere was being created in this school, but have been unable to discover its origin, and _this_," giving the letter the vicious shake a terrier would give a rat, "may prove the touchstone. I need hardly enjoin absolute secrecy upon your part. You have already proved your discretion. If you make any further discoveries you will, of course, come to me at once. By-the-way, when did you find the letter?"
"Why--er--several days ago, Miss Woodhull."
"Then why have you so long delayed coming to me?" The eyes were very searching.
"I was afraid--afraid--I might be mistaken. That after all it really didn't mean anything. The girls often play jokes upon one another, you know."
"Not such senseless jokes as this one I trust. What caused you to alter your opinion?"
The professional stage certainly missed a star when it failed to discover Eleanor. She hesitated, looked down, then up with appealing eyes. She twisted her fingers together and untwisted them. She shifted from one foot to the other, all of which was maddeningly irritating to Miss Woodhull.
"This is no time for hesitation,--speak!"
"Sit in that chair and tell me everything without further circumlocution." The tone was final.
With appropriate hesitancy the events of the afternoon were graphically pictured for the Empress. When they were completely drawn she said with the grimness of Fate: "You may go, but remember, not one word to your companions." A most superfluous admonition, for Eleanor was nearly petrified with fear as it was. She retreated to her room with all possible speed and her room-mate wondered what had taken place to make her look so pale, but refrained from asking questions. Eleanor and her room-mate were not entirely congenial.