“Let’s get back into my office where we can talk undisturbed,” suggested Mrs. Hilliard, leading the way out of a door and along a hall to another smaller room. “Now sit down and I’ll tell you all about our difficulties.”
Mr. Gay and his daughter made themselves comfortable, and Mary Louise took out her notebook. The same notebook which she had made so valuable on two previous occasions.
“Last September was the first time we ever had any trouble at all,” began Mrs. Hilliard. “We lost a complete set of silverware—a dozen each of knives, forks, and spoons. But as these were only plated, the loss did not run into a great deal of money, so we didn’t make much fuss. I supposed that one of the maids stole them—a waitress who left the next day to be married.
“But I must have been mistaken, for more things disappeared after she left. A very unusual vase we had in the library, quite valuable too, for it had belonged in the Stoddard family. That made it look as if the thief were a connoisseur.
“The matron and I were watching the help carefully, and we felt sure that none of them was responsible. We hadn’t many guests at the time—there are only about a dozen who live here permanently. And there happened to be only a couple of transients.”
“What are ‘transients,’ Mrs. Hilliard?” asked Mary Louise, who was unfamiliar with the term.
“They’re the people who stop in for a day or two—or even a week—and don’t stay permanently,” explained the other.
“I should think they’d be the people who would be most likely to steal,” observed Mary Louise. “Because they could get away with it more easily.”
“I thought so too, at first. But when things kept right on being stolen, and the same transients never came back, it began to look to me as if one of the permanent lodgers were responsible.... These two girls—I have forgotten their names—were here when the silverware and the vase disappeared, but they were not here in October when our watches were taken.”
“How many watches?” asked Mary Louise.