“I don’t think a man did unearth it,” Bab replied.  Just then the bell rang again.

The next moment the door opened, and the butler announced:  “Miss Marjorie Moore!” The newspaper girl gave Bab a friendly smile; then she turned coldly to Mr. William Hamlin.

“Miss Moore!” Mr. Hamlin exclaimed in surprise and in anger.  “I wish to see a man from your newspaper.  What I have to say cannot possibly concern you.”

“I think it does, Mr. Hamlin,” Miss Moore repeated calmly.  “One of the editors from my paper has come here with me.  He is waiting in the hall.  But it was I who discovered the theft of your state documents.  I have been expecting mischief for some time.  I am sorry for you, of course—­very sorry, but I have all the facts of the case, and as no one else knows of it, it will be a great scoop for me in the morning.”

“Your newspaper will not publish the story at all, Miss Moore,” Mr. Hamlin rejoined, when he had recovered from his astonishment at Miss Moore’s appearance.  “The stolen papers were not of the least value.  Will you explain to Miss Moore exactly what occurred, Miss Thurston?” Mr. Hamlin concluded.

When Bab told the story of how she and Ruth had made their lightning substitution of the papers, Marjorie Moore gave a gasp of surprise.

“Good for you, Miss Thurston!” she returned.  “I knew you were clever, as well as the right sort, the first time I saw you.  So I had gotten hold of the whole story of the theft except, the most important point—­the exchange of the papers.  It spoils my story as sensational political news.  But,” Miss Moore laughed, “it makes a perfectly great personal story, because it has such a funny side to it:  ’Foiled by the “Automobile Girls"!’ ‘The Assistant Secretary of State’s Daughter!’” Miss Moore stopped, ashamed of her cruelty when she saw Mr. Hamlin’s face.  But he did not speak.

It was Bab who exclaimed:  “Oh, Miss Moore, you are not going to betray Harriet, are you?  Poor Harriet thought it was all a joke.  She did not know the papers were valuable.  It would be too cruel to spread this story abroad.  It might ruin Harriet’s reputation.”

Marjorie Moore made no answer.

“You heard Miss Thurston,” Mr. Hamlin interposed.  “Surely you will grant our request.”

“Mr. Hamlin,” Marjorie Moore protested, “I am dreadfully sorry for you.  I told you so, but I am going to have this story published in the morning.  It is too good to keep and I have worked dreadfully hard on it.  Indeed, I almost lost my life because of it.  I knew it was Peter Dillon who struck me down on the White House lawn the night of the reception.  But I said nothing because I knew that, if I made trouble, I would have been put off the scent of the story somehow.  I tried to see Miss Thurston alone, that evening, to warn her that Mrs. Wilson and Peter Dillon were going to try to fasten their crime on her.  I am obliged to be frank with you, Mr. Hamlin.  I will stick to the facts as you have told them to me, but a full account of the attempted theft will be published in the morning’s ‘News.’”