“Well?” she demanded. “What of it?”
“I don’t know. Miss Searle got me on the telephone a little after one last night; she said she’d found the necklace in the hat and was bringing it to me.”
“How did she know it was mine?”
“Heard you order it sent to me, in London. You’ll remember my telling you she knew.”
“Oh, yes. Go on.”
“She didn’t show up, but telephoned again some time round four o’clock explaining that she had been in a taxicab accident in the Park and lost her way but finally got home—that is, to her hotel, the St. Simon. She said the necklace was safe—didn’t mention the hat—and asked me to call for it at noon today. I said I would, and I’m by way of being late now. Doubtless she can explain how the hat came to you this way.”
“I’ll be interested to hear,” said Alison, “and to know that the necklace is really safe. On the face of it—as it stands—there’s something queer—wrong.... What are you going to do?”
Staff had moved toward the telephone. He paused, explaining that he was about to call up Miss Searle for reassurance. Alison negatived this instantly.
“Why waste time? If she has the thing, the quickest way to get it is to go to her now—at once. If she hasn’t, the quickest way to get after it is via the same route. I’m all ready and if you are we’ll go immediately.”
Staff bowed, displeased with her manner to the point of silence. He had no objection to her being as temperamental as she pleased, but he objected strongly to having it implied by everything except spoken words that he was in some way responsible for the necklace and that Eleanor Searle was quite capable of conspiring to steal it.