“I’ll be back in that time,” cried Grace, and was gone, leaving Miss Tebbs and the three chums mystified but faintly hopeful.

Across the stage she flew and into the other dressing room.  The object of her search was not there.  Out she rushed and collided with a girl who was about to enter.

“Pardon me,” said Grace, glancing up, then seized the girl by the arm.  “Eleanor Savell,” she exclaimed sternly.  “You know where Anne’s costumes are.  Don’t attempt to deny it.”

Eleanor looked contemptuously at Grace and tried to shake herself free, but Grace’s grasp tightened.

“Answer me,” she said.  “Where are they?”

[Illustration:  “Where Are Anne’s Costumes?” Cried Grace.]

“Let me go,” said Eleanor angrily.  “You are hurting my arm.  What do I care about Miss Pierson’s costumes?”

“You will care,” replied Grace.  “For if you don’t instantly tell me where they are, I shall call the whole cast and expose you.”

“If you do, you will merely make yourself ridiculous,” hissed Eleanor, her eyes blazing.  “What grounds have you for such an accusation?”

“I can’t prove that you are responsible for their disappearance, but I do know that you shall not play ‘Rosalind,’ if the costumes are never found.”

“How can you prevent me!” asked Eleanor in insolent tones.  “You are not running this production.”

“I have no time to waste in arguing the matter,” returned Grace with admirable self-control.  “What I want is the truth about the costumes and you must answer me.”

“‘Must,’” repeated Eleanor, raising her eyebrows.  “That is putting it rather strongly.  No one ever says ‘must’ to me.”

“I say it to you now, Eleanor, and I mean it,” said Grace.  “I am fully convinced that you have hidden Anne’s costumes and I am equally certain that you are going to produce them at once.”

“Then you are laboring under a delusion,” replied Eleanor, with a disagreeable laugh, “and I should advise you to devote that tireless energy of yours, to minding your own business.”

“This is my business,” replied Grace evenly, “and if you wish to avoid any unpleasantness you will make it yours.”

“Your threats do not alarm me,” sneered Eleanor.  “I am not easily frightened.”

“Very well,” replied Grace, looking steadily at her enemy.  “I see that I shall be obliged to call Miss Thompson back here and tell her who destroyed her essay.  Knowing that, do you suppose you can make her believe that you did not hide Anne’s costumes?”

Eleanor’s insolent expression turned to one of fear.  “No,” she gasped, “don’t call Miss Thompson.  You know she hates me, and will disgrace me in the eyes of the girls.”

“And you richly deserve it, Eleanor,” replied Grace, “but if you produce Anne’s costumes at once, I’ll agree to say nothing.  Hurry, for every second is precious.”

“I can’t get them,” wailed Eleanor.  “What shall I do?”