"No, miss--not exactly. As I say, she told me to use my best judgment in case the jewels weren't returned. And, as I've said, it was getting late, and Mrs. Gosnold nowhere to be found, and I thought I'd better get busy."
"Mrs. Gosnold has disappeared?"
"Well, you might call it that. Anyway, we can't seem to find any trace of her. I've got an idea that maid of hers knows something, but if she does she won't talk to me. And considering that, and everything--the circumstances being so unusual all around--it seemed to be up to me to take some steps to make sure nothing was wrong."
He faltered, patently embarrassed by a distasteful task.
"Well?" Sally insisted coolly. "Still you've given me no reason for this outrageous intrusion and accusation."
"No, miss; I'm coming to that. You see, the first thing was to get that letter-box opened and examine those envelopes. I got several of the gentlemen to act as a sort of a committee, so as nobody could kick on the ground that everything wasn't done open and aboveboard."
"You found no confession, I gather?" Mrs. Standish interpolated.
"No, ma'am--no confession. All but two of the cards were blank. The two had something written on them--anonymous information, so to speak. I brought them along so that Miss Manwaring would understand, in case there was any mistake, it wasn't my fault."
He fumbled in a pocket, brought forth the cards, and with some hesitation handed them over to Sally.
Both bore messages laboriously printed in pencil, of much the same tenor: