The next day, returning to her apartment for a light wrap, after the evening meal, Mrs. Illingworth passed her dressing-table, and stared in amazement. The girls, in their room, heard her peremptory call.
“Patty, have you been meddling with my jewel cases again?”
“No, mamma, I haven’t touched them,” she answered comfortably.
“Are you sure? Think! Come here quick!”
Patricia sprang to obey. Her mother’s voice was tense and sharp. More than once she had made free to appropriate necklaces and bracelets for her own adornment in plays with the children, but this time she was quite innocent of any misbehavior.
“Why!—why!” she gasped, gazing, big-eyed, at the beautiful empty cases, “where are all your jewels? I haven’t taken a single thing! Have I, Polly? We were playing tennis early, and then we went to ride, you know. Why, what could—”
But Mrs. Illingworth waited for no more; dashing from the room, she hurried to the office to report her loss.
She was only one of many. While supper was in progress the rooms of the guests had been rifled of money and jewelry to the amount of thousands of dollars. The thief had entered the apartments by means of a skeleton key, for most of the doors had been locked.
“Oh, I wonder if he took my lovely coral bracelet!” cried Patricia, who had followed her mother downstairs.