Carrados’s attention seemed to leap to the voice; then he turned courteously to his hostess.
“I appreciate that you have had a trying time lately, Mrs Straithwaite,” he said. “Every moment I have been hoping to let you out of the witness-box——”
“Perhaps to-morrow——” began Straithwaite, recrossing the room.
“Impossible; I leave town to-night,” replied Carrados firmly. “You have three pairs of these gloves, Mrs Straithwaite. Here is one. The other two——?”
“One pair I have not worn yet. The other—good gracious, I haven’t been out since Tuesday! I suppose it is in my glove-box.”
“I must see it, please.”
Straithwaite opened his mouth, but as his wife obediently rose to her feet to comply he turned sharply away with the word unspoken.
“These are they,” she said, returning.
“Mr Carrados and I will finish our investigation in my room,” interposed Straithwaite, with quiet assertiveness. “I should advise you to lie down for half-an-hour, Stephanie, if you don’t want to be a nervous wreck to-morrow.”
“You must allow the culprit to endorse that good advice, Mrs Straithwaite,” added Carrados. He had been examining the second pair of gloves as they spoke and he now handed them back again. “They are undoubtedly of the same set,” he admitted, with extinguished interest, “and so our clue runs out.”