"I find it most objectionable to have my poor sister's clothing pawed about by Men!" announced Miss Pickhill, her eyes snapping.
"I shan't disturb anything more than I need, madam. Yes, I see: dresses in the side-wings: I don't want to touch anything there, thank you. If I may see inside the central division?"
As he had expected, shelves, with drawers below them, were concealed by the double doors in the middle of the wardrobe. On one of the shelves a large jewel-box stood, beside a glove-box, and a quilted handkerchief sachet.
Miss Pickhill, perceiving this, instantly called upon Mr.. Eddleston to open it, and to place in it the emerald brooch, which she was still holding. "And for the present," she said, "I consider the case ought to be in safe custody! Perhaps you will take charge of it! My sister possessed some very valuable jewels."
Cynthia at once protested, pointing out that it had nothing to do with her aunt. Miss Pickhill retorted that as her niece's guardian it had everything to do with her, a pronouncement which caused Cynthia to express an impassioned wish that she too were dead. Meanwhile Mr.. Eddleston, carefully avoiding the Chief Inspector's speaking eye, lifted the box out of the wardrobe, and asked for its key. Hemingway handed it to him, and he unlocked the box, disclosing a collection of ornaments of a fashionable rather than a valuable nature, tumbled into a velvet-lined tray.
"That isn't where Mummy puts her good stuff!" Cynthia said scornfully. "Oh, couldn't I just have those paste-clips to wear now? I don't see why I shouldn't! They aren't real, but they'd look rather marvellous on this frock. Mummy used to wear them with it. They go with it!"
"Jewellery is not worn with deep mourning!" said Miss Pickhill. "Can you think of nothing but personal adornment, child?"
"I think you're most unfair!" Cynthia cried, tears once more starting to her eyes. "You know I'm absolutely shattered, and you begged me to try not to think about it, and the instant I manage to take my mind off it you're beastly to me!"
Mr.. Eddleston, who was beginning to look harassed, lifted out the tray of the jewel-box, and laid it aside. A number of leather cases were stacked under the tray.
"If you must put the brooch away, just as if you thought I meant to steal it," said Cynthia, "this blue case is where it lives." She lifted the case out as she spoke, and gave an involuntary exclamation. "My compact!"