“It was the window over the stoop, and it stood half-way open.”
I passed at once to the window.
“And the shade?” I asked, turning.
“Was—was down.”
“You are sure, madam?”
“Quite; it was by the noise it made as I opened the door that I noticed the window was open.”
“Your first glance, then, was not at the mantel-piece?”
“No, sir, but my second was.” Her self-possession was almost cold.
This great lady evidently did not enjoy her position of witness, notwithstanding the heavy loss she had sustained, and the fact that the inquisition being made was all in her own interests. I was not to be repelled by her manner, however, for a suspicion had seized me which somewhat accounted for the words and method pursued by Mr. Winchester, and a suspicion once formed, holds imperious sway over the mind of a detective till it is either disproved by facts or confirmed in the same manner into a settled belief.
“Madam,” I remarked, “your loss is very great, and demands the most speedy and vigorous effort on the part of the police, that it may not result in a permanent one. Has it struck you”—and I looked firmly at the young girl whom, by my change of position, I had brought again into view—“that it was in any way peculiar that chance thieves working in this dangerous and conspicuous manner should know just the moment to make the hazardous effort which resulted so favorably to themselves? These burglaries which, as you say, have been so plentiful of late, have hitherto all taken place at the hour the family are supposed to be at dinner, while this occurred just when the family would reasonably be supposed to be returning up-stairs. Besides, the gas was burning in this room, was it not?”