"What, sir? What do you mean?"
"Well, I'll tell you. A small article has disappeared from the house next door, from a room on this side, just above Mrs. Berry's room. It's a hard matter to find out what became of the thing, a small trinket of jewellery, and I'm in hopes that your bird flew over and took it, because that will let out certain very much worried human beings!"
"Oh, I can't think Polly did that!"
"Can he fly as far as to go up to that window two stories higher than this? You say he can fly, but would he be likely to fly UP?"
"If so be that window was open he might. He's a born thief, that bird is. But in that case, what did he do with it? A jewel, you say?"
"Yes, an old, very old earring."
"Ah!" and Joe started; "of fine work, but all broken and bent?"
"I don't know. How about that, Dolly?"
"It was old, and it was fine gold work. But it wasn't bent or broken."
"Then it's not the same," said Joe. "Polly has a lot of playthings, and some old imitation jewellery that Mrs. Mortimer lets him have because he loves such things. And it was Monday, yes, yesterday, he had an old piece of stuff that I didn't remember seeing before, but I paid little attention to it. And it was that bent and twisted it can't have been the thing you're searching for. No, that it couldn't."