“Mrs. Ferguson,” began the hotel detective, “I must apologize for interrupting your card game, but I have to go through with a routine. Last night some valuables were stolen from one of our guests, and I have promised him to make a thorough search of each room. You understand, of course, that no slight is meant to you or to your guests. The girls can go on with their game, if you will just permit us to look around.”
Mrs. Ferguson, who was, Mr. Gay thought, one of the ugliest women he had ever seen, drew herself up proudly.
“I very much resent it,” she replied haughtily. “In fact I forbid it!”
“You can’t do that,” answered the detective coolly. “For even if you decide to leave the hotel, your things will be searched before you go. But please don’t be unreasonable, Mrs. Ferguson! Suppose that you, for instance, had been robbed of that beautiful diamond ring you are wearing. Wouldn’t you want us to do everything in our power to get it back for you?”
“I wouldn’t want guests—especially women and girls—subjected to such insults as you were offering me and my young friends and relatives! Besides, I thought you were already pretty sure of your thief.”
“We’re not sure of anything. Will you submit peacefully, Mrs. Ferguson, or must we call in the police?”
The woman looked sullen and did not answer; the detective stepped across the room and locked the door. Mrs. Ferguson turned her back and wandered indifferently towards the bare Christmas tree in the corner. It was standing upright in a box of green, but it had not been trimmed. A pile of boxes beside it indicated the ornaments with which it would probably soon be decorated.
Mr. Gay, always the keenest observer, sensed that fact that Mrs. Ferguson had some special interest in those boxes, and his first shrewd surmise was that valuables were somehow concealed within them. Therefore, he kept his eye glued on that corner of the room.
“I guess you’ll have to stop your games, girls,” said Mrs. Ferguson, “since these men mean to be objectionable. Of course, we’ll move to another hotel immediately, so you can all go and get your things packed.... Pauline, you take care of these balls for the tree. Men like this wouldn’t care whether they were smashed or not! They have no Christmas spirit.”
“Some hotel!” muttered Pauline, with an oath under her breath. But she got up and went towards the Christmas tree.