Morson led the way to the drawing-room and threw open the door.
"The district attorney," he announced, making it sound like a title of nobility, and O'Bannon and Lydia stood face to face again—or rather he stood. She, leaning back in her chair, nodded an adequate enough greeting to a public servant in the performance of his duty. They were not alone—a slim gray-haired lady, Miss Bennett, was named.
"I understood at my office you had sent for me," said he.
"I?" There was something wondering in her tone. "Oh, yes, the sheriff, I believe, wanted you to come. All my jewels were stolen last night. He seemed to think you might be able to do something about it." Her tone indicated that she did not share the sheriff's optimism. Miss Bennett, with a long habit of counteracting Lydia's manners, broke in.
"So kind of you to come yourself, Mr. O'Bannon."
"It's my job to come."
"Yes, of course. I think I know your mother." She was very cordial, partly because she felt something hostile in the air, partly because she thought him an attractive-looking young man. "She's so helpful in the village improvement, only we're all just a little afraid of her. Aren't you just a little afraid of her yourself?"
"Very much," he answered gravely.
Miss Bennett wished he wouldn't just stare at her with those queer eyes of his—a little crazy, she thought. She liked people to smile at her when they spoke. She went on, "Not but what we work all the better for her because we are a little afraid——"
Lydia interrupted.