Opening the door with a latch key, he conducted his find across the reception hall, up a broad flight of stairs and into a formally furnished drawing-room. From between wide doors, half opened into a room beyond, appeared a woman of medium height, whose looks made unnecessary any introduction as Irene’s mother. If her mauve crape dress revealed rather too distinctly her plump outlines, it softened the middle-aged beauty of her face and toned with the magnificent grayish pearls she wore.
“Is this the detective, Jasper?” she asked, but did not await an answer. “I’ll ring when I want you again.”
She turned to the stranger as the butler passed out of the room. “Thank you for answering our call for help so promptly Mr. ——”
“Pape, madam.”
“Won’t you take off your coat and be seated, Mr. Pape? This is in some respects an unusual robbery, and your investigation probably will take some time.”
He followed her suggestion with alacrity, using a nearby Davenport to rack his hat and overcoat. It would be an advantage, he considered, to be in possession of as many facts as possible, before Jane appeared to expose him. Facts might help him in some way to induce her to go on playing the game as she had in the Metropolitan box.
“Best begin at the very beginning, Mrs. Sturgis.”
He seated himself in a chair opposite that into which the matron had sunk, and leaned toward her with frowning concentration. Too late he remembered that the Arsenal detectives, if any were there assigned, did not sit around at all hours in evening clothes. But if she noticed at all his attire, it was with approval, judging by the confidential smile she bent upon him.
“This is a manless house, except for the servants,” she began in the modulated voice of those “to the manner” born. “I have the misfortune to be a widow. This evening my daughter and my niece went to the opera with old friends of the family. I have no liking for operas of the ‘Zaza’ type so remained at home. But I promised the young ladies to stay up, as they wished to bring their friends back with them to supper.”
Stopped by a thought, she indicated an ebony cigarette outfit that topped a tabaret near his chair. “Men think so much better when they smoke,” she suggested. “If you prefer cigars, Mr. Pape, I’ll have some brought in.”