"What she may know or not know, I haven't pretended to inquire, but you must certainly see how easy it would be for her to slip the thing into her own pile and walk off with it if she wanted."
"Her own sketches were all on the couch," protested Patricia, "and they never once were near yours. I saw her get them together before she left."
"But was your back never turned on her during all the time mine were lying about?"
Patricia put her head down on the couch pillows and sobbed audibly.
"It seems too dreadful and unkind and mean to have such suspicions about her!" she wailed.
"Now, Patricia dear, be sensible!" demanded the captain, despairingly. "I'm no more suspicious of her than of any one else. I'm only trying to sift the thing to the bottom. Let's leave her, for a moment, however. You say Madame Vanderpoel was the next one in. She stayed about fifteen minutes, examined the sketches, and went out. Tell me just exactly what she did before she looked them over."
"She glanced at them as she was passing out, asked me if she could look at them, placed her sewing on the table, looked at them all, took up her sewing and went away."
"Did she put her sewing down near where they were on the table?" asked the captain.
"Yes, because I remember that she had to move it once, in order to see one or two that were lying under it."
"Do you remember whether the Crimson Patch was among those she looked at or commented on?"