"I wonder why he wore gloves," mused Mrs. Tennant.
"I suppose," said Miss Tennant, "that he had heard of the Bertillon system, and was afraid of being tracked by his finger-marks."
"Did he say anything?"
"Not to me, I think," said Miss Tennant, "but he kept mumbling to himself so I could hear: 'Slit her damn throat if she makes a move; slit it right into the backbone.' So, of course, I didn't make a move—I thought he was talking to a confederate whom I couldn't see."
"Why a confederate?" asked Mrs. Tennant. "Oh, I see—you mean a sort of partner."
"But there was only the one," said Miss Tennant. "And when he had filled his pockets and was gone by the window—I thought it was safe to scream, and I screamed."
"Have you looked to see what he took?"
"No. But my jewels were all knocking about on the dressing-table. I suppose he got them."
"Well," said Mrs. Tennant, "let's be thankful that he didn't get mine."
"And only to think," said Miss Tennant, "that only last night papa asked me why I had given up wearing my pearls, and was put out about it, and I promised to wear them oftener!"