“And Philippa,” I suggested.
“_Saw_ what I _heard_.”
I made no further effort to detain him. “Let us have her here,” I
cried. “If what you surmise is true, the mystery ought to be one of
easy solution. So easy,” I could not forbear adding, “that I wonder you
felt the need of sending for a detective.”
“You forget,” he observed, “that it is not so much the discovery of
the thief I am after, as the recovery of the jewels. The former I
might have managed without your assistance; but the latter requires an
authority backed by the law.” And merely stopping to call my attention
to the necessity of keeping a watch on the front door that no one
should escape from the house while he was gone, he hastily left me and
went up-stairs.
He was absent some twenty minutes, during which I heard him pass in and
out of his wife’s room. But when he came down he was alone, and his
countenance, which before had looked merely anxious and determined, now
bore the marks of anger and impatience.
“I do not know by what motive she is actuated,” cried he, “but I cannot
induce Philippa to speak. She insists she has nothing to say.”
“You saw her, then? I was afraid she had escaped by the back-stairs.”
“Hardly,” was the dry retort. “I caused the door leading to the rear
hall to be locked long ago.”