"At 10:15," replied the other promptly.

"And the ring was lost, or missed, at 10:20. You were not on the floor
when it happened, at all."

"She ought to know her own business," snapped the detective.

"And I ought to know mine," replied Miss Allen. "I gave Miss Berg fifteen
minutes, and she was not there when that tray was out of the case."

"You should be very careful in a matter of this kind," cautioned the
superintendent.

Dorothy left her place and stood straight before the big flat-top desk.

"My name is Dorothy Dale," she began clearly, "and I tell you, honestly,
I know nothing about this ring. I never looked at a ring at the counter,
and never touched an article except those in the tray with the small pins.
I feel you must believe me, but if you are not satisfied you may call up
my father, Major Dale, of The Cedars, North Birchland. He will give you
any security you may demand."

The speech was just like Dorothy, unexpected, simple, clear in its
avowals, and sharp in its purpose. The superintendent looked pleased and
Miss Allen smiled. Miss Berg was frightened--she had made a mistake, but
the woman detective seemed to know, and she had followed her leading. The
detective turned away to hide her disgust.

"Well," said the superintendent, "I am satisfied to drop the matter. I