They went down-stairs to the lower hall, where Nyoda argued and pleaded
to be told the meaning of Mrs. Moffat's strange attitude toward us, but
she got no satisfaction. Mrs. Moffat would say nothing more than that
she had a reputation to keep up. When Nyoda defied her to put Margery
out Mrs. Moffat said grandiloquently that her son was on the police
force (I suppose she meant he was _the_ police force) and we would
see what she could do.

Nyoda, at her wit's end, was trying to think of what to say next when
there was a rap on the door and a small boy arrived with a note, which
he would not give into Mrs. Moffat's hand. He just held it up so she
could see what was on the outside. It was addressed to "The black-
haired automobile lady". This, of course, was Nyoda and the boy was
perfectly satisfied to give her the note once he had looked at her.
Wonderingly she unfolded it. It contained only one line: "Go 22 Spring
Street." It was signed "A fellow tourist." Nyoda turned to ask the boy
who had given him the note, but he had disappeared.

22 Spring Street. Spring Street was one block down Main Street. Nyoda
called me to go with her and we went to 22 Spring Street. A perfectly
dear old lady came to the door and, when we asked if she could keep us
all night, she said she would be delighted to. She asked such few
questions that I have a suspicion that she knew all about us already
from the motorcyclist, for we had no doubt that it was he who had sent
Nyoda the note. How he knew Mrs. Moffat was trying to put us out was
beyond us, unless he had been passing the open front door and overheard
her conversation, which had not been in low tones by any means. As the
new place was so near we got Margery over without any trouble and shook
the dust of Mrs. Moffat's house from our feet disdainfully, if still
completely in the dark as to why it should be so.