‘She spent her money faster than she earned it. We were always in debt. The little jewellery she had ever possessed had been pledged.’
‘Are you sure that she had no valuable jewellery in her possession at the time of her death?’
‘To my knowledge she had none.’
‘That’s curious,’ said Mr. Leopold. ‘I heard a rumour at the time of a diamond necklace, which had been seen round her throat two or three evenings before the murder, by the dresser at the theatre. Your wife wore a broad band of black velvet round her neck when she was dressed for the stage, which entirely concealed the diamonds, and it was only by accident the dresser saw them.’
‘This must be a fable,’ said Treverton. ‘My wife never possessed a diamond necklace. She was never in a position to buy one.’
‘She may have been in a position to receive one as a gift,’ suggested Mr. Leopold quietly.
‘She was an honest woman.’
‘Granted. Such gifts are given to honest women. Not often, perhaps, but the thing is possible. Her possession of that diamond necklace may have become known to the murderer, and may have tempted him to the crime.’
Treverton was silent. He remembered his wife’s anonymous admirer, the giver of the bracelet. He had dismissed the man from his thoughts after his interview with the jeweller. No other gifts had appeared, and he had felt no further uneasiness on the subject.
‘Have you thought of all the people in the house?’ asked Mr. Leopold.