“You were in the kitchen at the time,” said Grandfather Gordon, who had heard the tale so many times he knew it from memory.
“That’s right. Mrs. Stone admired it and remarked that it was the most beautiful locket she had ever seen. She took it to the kitchen mirror and held it to her own neck a moment.”
“A very natural reaction,” commented Miss Gordon. “But it hardly proves—”
“The guests began to arrive then,” Grandmother Gordon interrupted. “I left the locket lying on the kitchen table and entered the living room. Not until much later did I give the matter another thought.”
“You surely asked Mrs. Stone about the locket?” inquired Miss Gordon.
“Only casually, for at first I thought surely I would find it. And how could I accuse her without proof?”
“So you thought you would find it?” teased her husband. “That reveals to me that deep down in your mind, you knew you might have misplaced it yourself.”
“Nothing of the sort! I recall leaving it on the kitchen table. While I entertained my guests, it disappeared. I’ve never seen it since, and never will.”
“Couldn’t anyone except Mrs. Stone have taken it?” asked Jane. “One of the guests perhaps?”
“Only Mrs. Stone was in the kitchen.”