“Mr. Winchester,” I interrupted, “do you realize that if what you say is true, the diamonds are probably still in your house?”
“Just where I think they are, Mr. Byrd; just where I think they are.”
I began to have a strong notion of his suspicion.
“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.”