“I went in to see if I had left something there,” said poor Hinpoha, floundering desperately in the attempt to tell a plausible tale and yet not lie deliberately.  Then, realizing that she was contradicting herself and getting more involved all the time, she gave it up in despair and sat silent and miserable.  Nyoda’s expression of amazement and concern was an added torture.

“You admit, then, that you were in the electric room twice on Thursday afternoon, doing something which you cannot explain?” said Mr. Jackson, slowly.  Hinpoha nodded, mutely.  She never for an instant wavered in her loyalty to Emily.

“There is another thing,” continued Mr. Jackson, “that seems to point to the fact that you were in league with those who wished to spoil the play.  It was your dog that was let out on the stage in pursuit of the cat.”

“I know it was,” said Hinpoha, feeling that she was being drawn helplessly into a net from which there was no escape.  “But that wasn’t my fault.  I haven’t the slightest idea how he got there.  It was pure chance that he was coaxed into the building.”

“That may all be,” said Mr. Jackson, with frowning wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, “but it looks suspicious.”

“You certainly don’t think I cut those wires, do you?” said Hinpoha incredulously.

Mr. Jackson looked wise.  “You were not at the play yourself, were you?” he asked.

“No,” answered Hinpoha.

“Why weren’t you?” pursued Mr. Jackson.  “Have you anything against the Thessalonian Society?”

“No, not at all,” said Hinpoha with a catch in her voice.  “I am not going to anything this winter.”  She looked down at her black dress expressively, not trusting her voice to speak.

“Further,” continued Mr. Jackson, “you were seen in the company of Joe Lanning the day before these things happened.”  Now, Hinpoha had walked home from school with Joe that Wednesday.  She had done it merely because she was too courteous to snub him flatly when he had caught up with her on the street.  She despised him just as the rest of the class did and avoided him whenever she could, but when brought face to face with him she had not the hardihood to refuse his company.  That this innocent act should be misconstrued into meaning that she was mixed up in his doings seemed monstrous.  Yet Mr. Jackson apparently believed this to be the truth.  Things seemed to be closing around her.  To Mr. Jackson her guilt was perfectly clear.  She was a friend of Joe Lanning’s; she had lent him her dog to work mischief on the stage; she admitted being in the electric room and refused to tell what she had been doing there.

“Well,” he said crisply, “somebody cut those wires Thursday Afternoon, and only one person was seen going in and out of the electric room during that time, and that person is yourself.  You admit that you were in there doing something which will not bear explanation.  It looks pretty suspicious, doesn’t it?”