"Strangely enough, he had not been gone ten minutes when my son came in from a conference with our solicitors, informing me that at last a memorandum had turned up, indicating that the heirlooms would be found in a safe secreted behind a dresser in Colonel Burgoyne's bedroom."
"At Number 9, Frognall Street."
"Yes.... I proposed going there at once, but it was late and we were dining at the Pless with an acquaintance, a Mr. Mulready, whom I now recall as a former intimate of George Calendar. To our surprise we saw Calendar and his daughter at a table not far from ours. Mr. Mulready betrayed some agitation at the sight of Calendar, and told me that Scotland Yard had a man out with a warrant for Calendar's arrest, on old charges. For old sake's sake, Mr. Mulready begged me to give Calendar a word of warning. I did so—foolishly, it seems: Calendar was at that moment planning to rob us, Mulready aiding and abetting him."
The woman paused before Kirkwood, looking down upon him. "And so," she concluded, "we have been tricked and swindled. I can scarcely believe it of Dorothy Calendar."
"I, for one, don't believe it." Kirkwood spoke quietly, rising. "Whatever the culpability of Calendar and Mulready, Dorothy was only their hoodwinked tool."
"But, Mr. Kirkwood, she must have known the jewels were not hers."
"Yes," he assented passively, but wholly unconvinced.
"And what," she demanded with a gesture of exasperation, "what would you advise?"
"Scotland Yard," he told her bluntly.
"But it's a family secret! It must not appear in the papers. Don't you understand—George Calendar is my husband's cousin!"