For the rest of the day Eddie strutted about in the limelight of publicity. Newspaper photographers and reporters arrived within a few minutes after the detectives had phoned headquarters that the suitcases filled with silver and bills had been found in the hayloft; and when Eddie returned with the showman and the barker, he was prevailed upon to pose bashfully for his pictures. The newspaper reporters commented admirably on the “boy hero’s” admirable modesty and diffidence in the big front-page stories that they wrote about the carnival robbery, and Eddie’s freckled face, grinning bashfully from the center of the pages, confirmed every word written about him. His kewpie doll booth at the carnival that afternoon and evening was mobbed by his admirers, and before the day was ended Eddie almost believed that he _had_ routed two famous criminals and saved a small fortune for his employer. Sally was permitted to stay with David during the afternoon, but Bybee apologetically asked her to go on for the evening performances, since a record-breaking crowd had turned out, drawn partly by the fine weather that followed the storm, but largely by the front page publicity which the robbery had won for the show. CHAPTER XII It was just before the ten o’clock show that Sally, slipping into the throne-like chair before the crystal, heard a familiar, mocking voice: “It’s not fair! You look as fresh as a daisy! And I’ve been frantic with anxiety all day, expecting to hear that Princess Lalla had sickened with pneumonia. I’ve come to collect thanks, your highness, for saving your life!” ———— Sally’s sapphire eyes blazed at the man she knew only as “Van,” but since they were veiled with a new scrap of black lace to replace the one lost in the storm, the nonchalant New Yorker did not appear to be at all devastated by their fire. “Thank you for saving my life,” she said stiffly, but the man’s mocking, admiring attention was fixed upon the deliciously young, sweet curves of her mouth, rather than upon the tone of her voice. “I wonder if you know,” he began confidentially, leaning lightly upon his inevitable cane, “that you have the most adorable mouth I have ever seen? Of course there are other adorable details in the picture of complete loveliness that you present, but really, your lips, like three rose petals—” “Oh, stop!” Sally cried with childish anger, her small, red-sandaled foot stamping the platform. “Why are you always mocking me, making fun of me? I’ve begged you to let me alone—” “Such ingratitude!” the man sighed, but his narrowed eyes smiled at her delightedly. “If you weren’t even more delicious when you’re angry, I should not be able to forgive you. But really, Sally Ford—” his voice dropped caressingly on the name, as if to remind her that he shared her secret with her—“the way you persist in misunderstanding me is very distressing.