“Never any jewelry,” Judith spoke with unusual rapidity. “Nor any money,” she added.
Ferguson pursed his lips and tapped them with his pencil.
“Odd!” he exclaimed. “Were the servants aware that you had this jewelry box?”
“They may have been, for while I do not have a personal maid, Anna, the waitress, and Maud sometimes assist me in dressing for evening entertainments.” Judith wondered when Ferguson would go. She desired most heartily to be alone and thresh out her problems by herself. “It is probable that both the girls have seen the jewelry box on my dressing table,” she added after a brief pause.
“Where were the servants last night?” asked the detective.
“Anna was in her bedroom suffering from a sprained ankle”—Judith’s foot was keeping up an incessant tattoo. “Maud let me in; after that I did not see her again. They have both been here for years and are excellent servants—they are English.”
Ferguson made a slight grimace. “That Maud is a nice she-devil,” he exclaimed below his breath; Maud’s scathing remarks about the inefficiency of the detective force in general and Ferguson in particular still rankled. “I’d like to”—he checked himself and again addressed Judith.
“How much approximately was your jewelry worth, Mrs. Richards?”
Judith took a paper from her mesh bag. “Here is a list of the articles in the jewelry box,” she explained. “Major Richards suggested that I prepare it for you.”
“That’s fine.” Ferguson reached eagerly for the paper and scanned the items with increasing interest. “I see you estimate the jewelry at four thousand five hundred dollars,” he remarked. “A pretty haul for any thief. Fortunately your initials are on every piece,” running his eye down the list in which Judith had inserted a minute description of the jewelry. “Hold on, here’s one item, a locket—with nothing checked against it—has the locket any distinguishing mark?”