"Oh, they are simply beyond my understanding altogether. Like geometry,
you know. But I forgot to ask Nat something. I wonder if he has gone up to
his room yet?" and Tavia rose to ascertain.

"It's nearly ten," Dorothy told her, "and he usually retires before ten
o'clock."

"Well, I'll just run down to the library and find out. I may forget it by
morning."

Dorothy could not help thinking that so urgent a matter as one which
required that attention would scarcely be so easily forgotten, but when
Tavia left the room she put her little gifts away and soon forgot all
about Tavia's sudden determination to seek Nat. Dorothy had so many other
more interesting things to dwell upon.

"But I do hope she will not sit up late," came the thought, when some time
after Tavia's exit Dorothy remembered that no sound had since indicated
that her chum had come toward the room. "Aunt Winnie does not like these
little late conferences."

Then she turned off her light and continued to listen for Tavia's
footstep.

Meanwhile, Tavia was talking very seriously to Nat. She had told him about
Dorothy's message from the strange woman, and he had suggested that the
handwriting expert might in some way be connected with the Chicago firm to
which Tavia had written, and through which she had made her
financial--mistake.