“You don’t think that’s important?” asked Mary Louise in disappointment, for she could read his thought. “It occurred to me that, if they stole the chickens, maybe it was they who stole the necklace.”
“I’m afraid not, daughter. If we have only a colored woman’s word for it, that’s no proof. She’s probably shielding herself or her husband.... Besides, while gypsies might steal something on the outside, they very seldom have been known to break into people’s houses.”
“Yes, I was afraid you would say that.”
“It might be worth following up as a clue if we had nothing else to go on. But now we feel pretty sure that Elsie Grant is guilty.... But did this colored woman hear them last night—the gypsies, I mean?”
“No, she didn’t. It was several nights ago, and about the same time that William, the hired man, reported that the chickens were gone.”
“What else did you learn this afternoon?” inquired her father.
“I sounded this Mrs. Jones out about the necklace, and she had never heard of any jewels at Dark Cedars. I believe her—I don’t think she could have stolen that necklace—or her husband, either.”
“I never thought they did, for a minute. If the thief had been a colored person, you would have known it, I’m sure. The hands alone are different. Didn’t you say that the hand that touched you was thin?”
“Yes. Almost bony. That’s one reason why I didn’t suspect Elsie.”
“And how about Hannah? Did you learn her whereabouts last night?”