He asked why, though not because he really cared to know.
“After that hint of mine!” she explained reproachfully. “About Mrs. Vanderpool’s bronze diamond, I mean!”
“I fear I do not understand you,” said Bob coldly.
She bent nearer. “Of course I thought it would disappear,” she murmured. “I expected you to execute one of those clever coups, and so I went purposely to Mrs. Vanderpool’s room on some pretext this morning to learn if it was gone. But it wasn’t. I cleverly led the conversation up to it and she showed it to me.”
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “Did you think she wouldn’t have it to show you? That it had found its way to my pockets?”
“Of course,” she answered. “And you are quite sure you haven’t it, after all?” she asked suspiciously.
“How could I, when you saw—”
“Oh, you might have substituted a counterfeit brooch just like it for—”
Bob groaned. “You certainly have absorbed those plays,” he remarked.
“I expected a whole lot of things would be gone,” she went on, “and, apparently,” with disappointment, “no one has missed anything. It’s quite tame. Did you get discouraged because you failed to land the ‘loot’—is that the word?—in my case? And did you then just go prosaically to bed?”