"Well, we won't say that just yet, Sir James; we must see. And we must guard against any undue predisposition to consider the robberies in a lump. Here we are at the lodge gate again. Is that your gardener—the man who left the ladder by the lawn on the first occasion you spoke of?"
Mr. Hewitt nodded in the direction of a man who was clipping a box border.
"Yes; will you ask him anything?"
"No, no; at any rate, not now. Remember the building alterations. I think, if there is no objection, I will look first at the room that the lady—Mrs.——" Hewitt looked up, inquiringly.
"My sister-in-law? Mrs. Cazenove. Oh, yes! you shall come to her room at once."
"Thank you. And I think Mrs. Cazenove had better be there."
They alighted, and a boy from the lodge led the horse and dog-cart away.
Mrs. Cazenove was a thin and faded, but quick and energetic, lady of middle age. She bent her head very slightly on learning Martin Hewitt's name, and said: "I must thank you, Mr. Hewitt, for your very prompt attention. I need scarcely say that any help you can afford in tracing the thief who has my property—whoever it may be—will make me most grateful. My room is quite ready for you to examine."
The room was on the second floor—the top floor at that part of the building. Some slight confusion of small articles of dress was observable in parts of the room.
"This, I take it," inquired Hewitt, "is exactly as it was at the time the brooch was missed?"