"Didn't you tell me you kept studs and jewelry in that box?"
"I did; that's what it's for. I don't see how he could have helped seeing it. I daresay he did and, thinking it was of no use, threw it away and then, when he saw I wanted it, got scared and lied."
A thing like a zigzag of lightning went through me. It stabbed down from my head to my feet, giving my heart a whack as it passed. My voice sounded queer as I spoke:
"He could have known, couldn't he, of that walk you and Miss Maitland took, that walk when you found the band?"
He had been looking, dreamy and indifferent, out into the darkness. Now he turned to me, a little surprised, as if he was wondering at my questions:
"I suppose so. He knew all my crowd up there; they're forever running back and forth from one place to the other. They know everything, and they're the greatest gossips and snobs in the country. I've no doubt he heard it talked threadbare—the boss walking home with Mrs. Janney's secretary. Probably gave their social sensibilities a jolt."
Something lifted me out of my chair, carried me across the balcony, plunked me down beside him on a lower step. I craned up my head near to his and I'll never forget the expression of his face, sort of blank, as if he wasn't sure whether I'd gone crazy or was going to kiss him.
"Some one who knew the family, some one who knew it was out that night, some one who knew Miss Maitland had the combination, some one who could have got a key to the front door, some one the dogs were friendly with!"
He was staring at me as if he was hypnotized—getting a gleam of it but not the full light. I put my hands on his shoulders and gave them a shake.
"You simp, wake up. It's Willitts!"