“They said at the station that a man had entered by your second-story window while you were at dinner.”
“Not at dinner,” she corrected gravely. “I do not leave my jewel-box lying open, while I go down to dinner. I was in the reception-room below—Mr. Winchester had sent word that he wished to see me for an instant—and being on the point of going to an evening party, my diamonds were in their case on the mantel-piece. When I came back the case was there, but no diamonds. They had been carried off in my absence.”
I glanced at the mantel-shelf. On it lay the open jewel-case. “What made you think a burglar took them?” I asked, my eyes on the lady I was addressing, but my ears open to the quick, involuntary drawing in of the breath which had escaped the young girl at the last sentence of her mistress.
“The window was up—I had left it closed—and there was a sound of scurrying feet on the pavement below. I had just time to see the forms of two men hurrying down the street. You know there have been a series of burglaries of this nature lately.”
I bowed, for her imperiousness seemed to demand it. Then I glanced at Philippa. She was standing with her face half averted, trifling with some object on the table, but her apparent unconcern was forced, and her hand trembled so that she hastily dropped the article with which she was toying and turned in such a manner that she hid it as well as her countenance from view.
I made a note of this and allowed my attention to return to Mrs. Winchester.
“At what time was this?” I inquired.
“Seven o’clock.”
“Late for a burglary of this kind.”