“What I may have said or may not have said is no business of yours,” Cynthia replied. “You have both of you insulted me beyond endurance, and from this time forth I shall never speak to any of you. I except Adelaide,” she added, after a moment’s consideration. “Adelaide is the only member of the Amen Corner who has treated me like a lady.”
“I think it would be pleasanter for you and for us if you would ask Madame to let you room somewhere else,” Milly suggested.
“I shall not go simply because you wish it,” Cynthia replied. “I shall stay to watch developments.”
“And, meantime, I believe you said we were to be deprived of the pleasure of any conversation with you,” I remarked, rather flippantly.
Cynthia turned her back upon me and from that time kept her word, maintaining a sullen silence with every one but Adelaide.
The bell rang for luncheon. The forenoon had seemed very long, and the afternoon was simply interminable. Milly left the room with me. Cynthia did not stir.
“Do you think she took it?” Milly asked, nodding back at the parlor.
“No,” I replied, “she is altogether too gay. She evidently enjoys the investigation. If she were the culprit she would be constrained, nervous, averse to having the affair examined.” I stopped suddenly, realizing how exactly this description fitted Winnie.
“Adelaide believes,” Milly said slowly, “that it was some sneak thief from outside the house. Have you looked about in the studio for any suspicious circumstances?”
I replied that I would do so after dinner, and then, as we passed into the dining-room together, the subject was dropped.