The two men promised not to say anything about the ash-chute to anybody, and hot upon the trail of the suspected burglar they went away.
Miss Morton excused herself, and upon Kitty French fell the burden of entertaining Mr. Stone. Nor was this young woman dismayed at the task.
Though not loquacious, the detective was an easy and pleasant talker, and he seemed quite ready to converse with the girl as if he had no other occupation on hand.
“How wonderful you are!” said Kitty, clasping her hands beneath her chin as she looked at the great man. “To think of your spotting that fireplace thing right away! Though of course I never should have thought of anybody squeezing up through there. And Rob and I spent a whole morning searching these rooms for clues, and that was only the day after it happened.”
“What an opportunity!” Stone seemed interested. “And didn’t you find anything—not anything?”
“No, not a thing. We were so disappointed. Oh, yes, Rob did find one little thing, but it was so little and so silly that I guess he forgot all about it.”
“What was it?”
“Why, I’ve almost forgotten the name. Oh, yes, Rob said it was a cachou—a little silver thing, you know, like a tiny pill. Rob says some men eat them after they’ve been smoking. But he asked all the men that ever came here, and they all said they didn’t use them. Maybe the burglar dropped it.”
“Maybe he did. Where did you find it?”
“Rob found it. It was right in that corner by the mantel, just near the fireplace.”