"Yes, ma'am. Markson says he can't make it out, ma'am, Wilkins driving off that way without so much as a by-your-leave, ma'am."
The three of us rose as one from the table. For a second or two we stood staring at one another.
Then Van Tuyl suddenly dived for the stairs, with the napkin full of jewelry in his hand. I, in turn, dived for the street door. But before I opened it I knew it was too late.
I suddenly stepped back into the hallway, to confront Beatrice Van Tuyl.
"How long have you had Felice?" I asked, groping impotently about the hall closet for my hat and coat.
"She came two weeks before Wilkins," was the answer.
"Then you see what this means?" I asked, still groping about for my overcoat.
"What can it mean?"
"They were working together—they were confederates."
Van Tuyl descended the stairs still carrying the table napkin full of jewelry. His eyes were wide with indignant wonder.