“But she’s a queer thing,” added Louise, “and I don’t trust her altogether.  Sometimes I’ve surprised a look in her eyes that wasn’t as innocent and demure as she would have us imagine her.”

“Oh, Louise!”

“And there’s another reason.”

“What is it?”

“She reformed too suddenly.”

Uncle John slapped his forehead a mighty blow as a suspicious and dreadful thought flashed across his mind.  But next instant he drew a long breath and smiled again.

“It was lucky I lost that key to the trunk,” he observed, still a little ashamed of his temporary lack of confidence in Tato.  “It’s been locked ever since we left Taormina, so the child couldn’t be tempted by that.”

“She wouldn’t touch your money for the world!” said Patsy, indignantly.  “Tato is no thief!”

“She comes of a race of thieves, though,” Beth reminded her.

“I wonder if Arthur’s money is still safe,” remarked Louise, following the line of thought suggested.

As if with one accord they moved down the hall to the door of the young man’s room.

“Are you in, Arthur?” asked Uncle John, knocking briskly.

“Yes, sir.”

He opened his door at once, and saw with surprise the little group of anxious faces outside.

“Is your money safe?” asked Uncle John.

Weldon gave them a startled glance and then ran to his dresser and pulled open a drawer.  After a moment’s fumbling he turned with a smile.

“All safe, sir.”

Uncle John and his nieces were visibly relieved.

“You see,” continued Arthur, “I’ve invented a clever hiding-place, because the satchel could not be left alone and I didn’t wish to lug it with me every step I took.  So I placed the packages of bills inside the leg of a pair of trousers, and put them in a drawer with some other clothing at top and bottom.  A dozen people might rummage in that drawer without suspecting the fact that money is hidden there.  I’ve come to believe the place is as good as a bank; but you startled me for a minute, with your question.  What’s wrong?”

“Tato’s gone.”

“Gone!”

“Departed bag and baggage.”

“But your fifty thousand, sir.  Is it safe?”

“It has to be,” answered Uncle John.  “It is in a steel-bound, double-locked trunk, to which I’ve lost the key.  No bank can beat that, my boy.”

“Then why did the child run away?”

They could not answer that.

“It’s a mystery,” said Patsy, almost ready to weep.  “But I’ll bet it’s that cruel, wicked father of hers.  Perhaps he came while we were out and wouldn’t wait a minute.”

“What does the hall porter say?” asked Kenneth, who had joined the group in time to overhear the last speech and guess what had happened.

“Stupid!” cried Uncle John.  “We never thought of the hall-porter.  Come back to our sitting room, and we’ll have him up in a jiffy.”