Sir Roland accepted the chair, and proceeded to display his tact. “Most unfortunate thing,” he said. “Last night—not quite myself, you know—lost a brooch. Must have dropped out of my cravat.”
“Oh?” said Lethbridge, looking at him rather hard. “A pin, in fact?”
“Not a pin, no. A brooch. Family jewels—sometimes wear it—don’t care to lose it. So I came round to see if I dropped it here.”
“I see. And what is it like, this brooch?”
“Ring brooch; inner circle pearls and openwork bosses, outer row pearls and diamonds,” said Sir Roland glibly.
“Indeed? A lady’s ornament, one would almost infer.”
“Belonged to my great-aunt,” said Sir Roland, extricating himself from that predicament with masterly skill.
“Ah, no doubt you value it highly then,” remarked his lordship sympathetically.
“Just so,” said Sir Roland. “Sentiment, you know. Should be gla,d to put my hand on it again.”
“I regret infinitely that I am unable to help you. May I suggest that you look for it in Montacute’s house? I think you said you spent the evening there?”