The stranger seemed to note Dorothy’s surprise, and turned directly to her.

“We meet again,” she said pleasantly, in a voice Dorothy thought at once cultured and peculiarly sweet.

“Yes,” replied Dorothy, also smiling.  Surely she and Tavia had been mistaken in their unkind opinion of this little body.

“I go into the city almost daily,” continued the woman, “and now, in the busy time, I try to make this early train.  I do so dislike to get in the dense crowd.”

“It is unpleasant,” said Dorothy a little guiltily, for at each word the woman spoke she felt more positive this gentle person could never be what they had supposed her—­a shoplifter.

“I wanted to speak to your friend the other day,” went on the stranger, “but I couldn’t seem to get an opportunity.  I suppose I might—­send her a message—­by you?”

“Why, yes—­certainly,” Dorothy stammered, really surprised this time.

“I saw when she dropped the envelope in the train that her name was Travers, and I thought if she would call on me I might be able to help her in a little business matter.  It is of rather a delicate nature,” the woman added, smiling, “so you will excuse me for being so mysterious.”

“Why, of course,” was all that Dorothy could think to answer.  “I am sure Tavia—­Miss Travers—­would be glad—­”

“Here is my card,” interrupted the woman, evidently noting Dorothy’s embarrassment.  Dorothy accepted the piece of cardboard, and glancing at it read: 

                     MissEstelle Brooks
                         Expert Penman
    Envelopes addressed, etc.  Benson Road, Ferndale.

As she read the card it flashed through Dorothy’s mind that after all the woman might simply be trying to get trade.  There seemed to be some connection between Tavia’s envelope and the business advertised on Miss Brooks’ card.  But whatever could she want of Tavia?  Surely she could not imagine a young girl needing the services of an expert penman?

“I saw your trouble in the store the other day,” Miss Brooks ventured, “and was so sorry for you.  I did want to help you—­to tell that young woman detective just what I thought.  But experience has taught me that it is not always best to interfere in such cases.  It often only adds to the difficulty.”

Dorothy could not find words in which to reply.  Whatever she might say would either seem stupid or perhaps suspicious.  And of the subtle ways of women “sharpers” Dorothy had often heard.  It was, she decided, almost impossible to be sufficiently alert to offset their cunning.  Perhaps this woman was one of that class—­an adept at it.

“Is there any particular time you would like Miss Travers to call?” Dorothy asked, turning the subject sharply.

“I am always at home on Thursdays,” replied Miss Brooks, “and she will have no trouble in finding me.  I board at the Griswold.”