“They are,” Tremont said. “Any idea where they came from?”
Mason shook ashes from the end of his cigarette, then faced the officer. “At the time I met her,” he said, “there seemed to have been a slight misunderstanding. One of the department store detectives thought she’d been shoplifting. Her niece thought she had been shopping. Since the things she had selected had never been removed from the store, I was inclined to join with the niece in insisting that the matter should be interpreted in a charitable light.”
“Then what?” Sergeant Tremont asked.
“Then,” Mason said, “we sat down and had lunch. Rather an enjoyable affair all around. I found her quite a character. Later on, the niece called on me. Something was said about some diamonds which had been left with Mr. George Trent. I think, Sergeant, if you’ll get hold of Miss Trent, you’ll find these diamonds will be readily identified as stones which were left with Mr. Trent in the due course of his business.”
“Then how did they get in this handbag?”
“I’m sure I couldn’t answer that question.”
“This other stuff,” the sergeant said, tapping the pile of silk stockings with the back of his fingers, “was stolen. Therefore, what does it make the diamonds?”
Mason’s laugh was genial. “Applying the same reasoning, Sergeant,” he said, “what does it make the knitting?”
“Don’t try to crack wise, Mason. The knitting is something a woman would naturally carry in her bag.”
“Remember,” Mason pointed out, “that her brother is a gem expert. He buys and sells on commission and does original designing, repair work, and recuts and polishes gems. While he’s away, she’s in charge of the business.”