“I told you I did not know when you asked me before, and I told you the truth. Since then a gleam of light has been shed on how I got those things but it is such a faint gleam that I feel it best not to say anything more about it until I can see more clearly myself. I am going to ask you and Mary to trust me a little longer in so far as the lace and gold bag being found in my pocket is concerned.”
“Indeed I have always trusted you, Josie,” declared Mary.
“Well I must say I haven’t,” said Mrs. Leslie, stoutly, “and I’d like to know now where those things are. Major Simpson will be coming along here before you know it and I am not willing for him to find them in my apartment. Where are they, Josie?”
“They are where they belong—with Mr. Theodore Burnett. I took them to him the moment I was aware of the fact that they were in my possession.”
“Mr. Theodore Burnett! Then was he the man who came home with you, the one who stopped three doors up?”
“Yes, that was Mr. Theodore Burnett, the junior member of the firm.”
“Heavens above! And I took him to be one of your confederates!”
“So he is, and we happen to be working on an inside job. It was never my idea to be so secretive about my being a detective, at least so far as Major Simpson was concerned, but the Burnetts were sure he would not know how to cooperate with me and that if a clue was found he would bungle because he is so—so—I might say, old fashioned, though that is hardly the word because the business of detecting crime is as old as crime itself, and what new wrinkles have been discovered do not amount to a row of pins.”
“There now, it was that kind of talk that made me say you were not a notion counter girl,” said Mrs. Leslie. “But you will tell Major Simpson now, surely.”
“No, not yet! I am afraid he would bungle things. Mr. Burnett and I have decided to keep him in the dark as to my business until the real thieves are caught.”