Felicia Cartright, a petite blonde who is one of the most popular students at the Wellington School for Girls, has a surprising inclination toward mysteries. If a mysterious situation arises it either makes its way to Felicia, or Felicia somehow finds it. Though this is a bit trying for her happy-go-lucky room-mate, Joan Bailey, it does prevent life from becoming monotonous. Felicia and Joan make a trip to France as a favor to Felicia's Uncle Don, and find themselves caught up on a dangerous mission. Just who can they trust, and who is telling the truth?
"Are you Mrs. Duvall?" the Cartright girl asked.
"My husband is not at home." She moved as though to close the door. "What do you want with Duvall?"
"One thing we'd like to know," Joan said crisply, "is what's going on here. First, we get hauled in by the police and questioned and searched. Now you're going to shut the door in our faces. Just what is this, anyway?"
The old woman's face darkened, and for a fleeting instant, fear flashed across it.
"The police?" she echoed, leaning forward and lowering her voice. "It is not the police who watch our humble little cottage."
The girls stiffened.
"Who was it that grabbed us then," Felicia demanded, "and hauled us down to the hotel?"
The old woman stared past them, first in one direction and then the other, as though straining to see something in the darkness. "The same ones who came and searched our place a fortnight ago," she told them.
"And who would that be?" Joan insisted.
"The Communists!" she whispered hoarsely. "They are everywhere!"
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