“When do you expect Mrs. Stanton back?” he began, in an offhand way, stretching his shoulders as if the long wait on the stairs had stiffened his joints. “That's her name, ain't it?”
“I expected to find her here,” she answered, ignoring his inquiry as to Lady Barbara's identity. “They are keeping her, no doubt, on some new work. She hasn't had any breakfast, and now it's long past lunch-time. And they didn't find the piece of lace? That's bad! Poor dear, she was near crazy when she found it was gone!”
Pickert had missed no one of the different expressions of anxiety and tenderness that had crossed her placid face. “No—it hadn't turned up when I left,” he replied; adding, with another stretch, quite as a matter of course, “she had it all right, didn't she?”
“Had it! Why, she's been nearly a week on it. I helped her all I could, but her eyes gave out.”
“Then you would know it again if you saw it?” The stretch was cut short this time.
“Of course I'd know it—don't I tell you I helped her fix it?”
The detective turned suddenly and, with a thrust of his chin, rasped out: “And if one, or both of you, pawned it somewhere round here, you could remember that, too, couldn't you?”
Martha drew back, her gentle eyes flashing: “Pawned it! What do you mean?”
The detective lunged toward her. “Just what I say. Now don't get on your ear, Mrs. Munger.” He was the thorough bully now. “It won't cut any ice with me or with Mr. Mangan. It didn't this morning or he wouldn't have sent me down here. We want that mantilla and we got to have it. If we don't there'll be trouble. If you know anything about it, now's the time to say so. The woman you call Mrs. Stanton got all balled up this morning, and couldn't say what she did with it. They all do that—we get half a dozen of 'em every week. She's pawned it all right—what I want to know is WHERE. Rosenthal's in a hole if we don't get it. If you've spent the money, I've got a roll right here.” And he tapped his pocket. “No questions asked, remember! All I want is the mantilla, and if it don't come she'll be in the Tombs and you'll go with her. We mean business, and don't you forget it!”
Martha turned squarely upon him—was about to speak—changed her mind—and drawing up a chair, settled down upon it.