“There—there was something that you didn’t mention that my brother certainly had on him when he went out of this house on Monday night at half-past ten,” she said, turning again to Blick. “A ring!—a ring of very curious workmanship, on the third finger of his right hand.”
“He had one ring on the third finger of his right hand,” said Blick. “A very fine diamond ring—a single stone.”
“He had two rings on the third finger of his right hand,” asserted Valencia. “The diamond ring you speak of, and this other one. I spoke of it to him while he was here. It was a ring of very odd appearance—it looked to me like copper, with some enamel work on it. It attracted my attention because—because I know some one who has a ring exactly like it—its duplicate, in fact.”
“Yes?” said Blick quietly. “Who?”
“Mrs. Tretheroe,” replied Valencia.
The men standing by glanced at each other.
“You are sure your brother was wearing this second, odd-looking ring when he left you?” asked Blick.
“I am certain of it,” affirmed Valencia. “Absolutely!”
“And you say that Mrs. Tretheroe has a similar ring?”
“Which she always wears,” said Valencia.