Ashton-Kirk smiled.
"And the more real they are, the more reason why she shouldn't permit them to lie about like that," said he, pointing to a stand, upon which rested a handsome jewel case. "And more especially when I see a scaffolding just outside the window which would make entrance for a thief rather easy."
"It's perfectly all right," she said; "there's no danger, sir." She opened the jewel case, showing it to be empty. "Miss Cavanaugh has put all her jewels in a bank vault."
"That must have been recently," said the investigator, his brows a trifle raised.
"Only yesterday. She made up her mind about it very suddenly."
A look which Bat Scanlon could not interpret shot across Ashton-Kirk's face; a tune was upon his lips as he prowled, hands deep in his trousers pockets, up and down the room, his keen eyes missing nothing. At length he paused and looked at the maid once more.
"I have always admired the manner in which Miss Cavanaugh has her hair arranged," said he. "Do you do that?"
"Usually, sir," said the maid. "But," with a little shadow upon her face, "I don't think she cares for my work, sir. She has refused to have me touch her hair for the last few mornings."
"Too bad," said the investigator. "Too bad!"
Once more he began walking about the room. At a window he halted and looked out; the scaffolding erected by the workmen, who had apparently been engaged in "pointing" the wall, ran sheer to the roof. Scanlon went to the investigator's side, and also looked out.