Mary went as white as a sheet.
"O no, not Walter! O no, not that!" she cried, and a big sob came from her heart. "He never would! He never could! How dare you say such a thing of my Walter?"
The policeman wasn't vexed. "I didn't say it," he answered. "Maybe I didn't think it, either."
"But you said—" and Mary stopped.
"No," says he, "I didn't say that. If I thought anybody had gone and stolen the watch, my duty 'ud be plain. I shouldn't need to stand talking here."
Mary sat down and waited, not speaking a word; and he went on—
"I don't say it's that. But I've a notion there's something between Mr. Phrynne's daughter and your brother. I've a notion they both know where the watch and chain are."
"Kitty!" says Mary.
"That's it," says he, grave-like. "Easy to see she wasn't speaking truth to her father nor me; and folks say she was wonderful taken with him. Now if so be she gave him the watch, he didn't steal it, and yet maybe he's got it! More than that I don't say—only I've got to find out where the watch is; and the quieter it's done, the better pleased Mr. Phrynne'll be."
Well, that wasn't all that passed, but by this time Mary pretty well understood how things were.