Not waiting to lower any of the lights, Judith went into her bedroom and started to undress. It took but a moment to slip on her wrapper, and she was about to comb her hair when the disorderly appearance of her dressing table startled her. Her toilet articles were tossed hither and yon.
Judith’s hand sought her jewelry box; the key was already turned in the lock. Tossing back the lid, she gazed inside—the box was empty.
A half-strangled cry escaped from her white lips and Richards heard it as he entered the boudoir; a second more and he was by her side.
“See—my jewels—they are gone,” she gasped. “Your horseshoe, even, Joe.”
“Hush, my darling, I’ll find it or get you another.” Alarmed by her pallor, he picked up a bottle of smelling salts which stood on the dressing table and held it open before her. “I will replace the jewelry.”
“You can’t replace the locket.”
“The locket!” Richards changed color. “Have you lost the locket?”
In her agitation she failed to catch his question.
“My jewelry was here, every piece, and the locket, when I went in to speak to you, Joe,” she declared. “I added the horseshoe just before you called me.”
Richards gazed at her in dumfounded silence. “What is that?” he asked. “You left your jewelry in that box when you came in to talk to me in the boudoir a little while ago?”