Ferguson nodded his approval. “That is a wise argument,” he said. “No one can dispute it. Now, about Mr. Hale’s watch,”—he turned back the pages of his memorandum book until he came to a certain entry—“can you describe it?”
“In a general way,” Judith spoke with some hesitation. “I have seen the watch often, but I am not very observant.”
Ferguson considered her for some seconds in silence. He disagreed with her statement—Judith, in his opinion, was not the heedless type; her detailed description of her jewelry, safely tucked away in his pocket, proved that.
“What was the watch like, Mrs. Richards?” he asked for the second time.
“It was an antique, made before the Revolution, so family tradition has it,” she stated, “an open-faced watch, wound with a key and the dial has an American eagle beautifully etched upon it.”
Ferguson took down her words, closed his notebook and rose.
“I am greatly obliged,” he said. “It should not be difficult to trace young Hale’s watch and also your jewelry if the thief tries to dispose of it. But that,” he stared at her, “presupposes it was the work of an ordinary thief.”
“And what leads you to think otherwise?” asked Judith swiftly.
Ferguson took several steps toward the door and hesitated in some uncertainty. “Your jewelry was stolen by some one familiar with your habits and familiar with the arrangement of these rooms,” he stated gravely. “There is no possible way of entering your bedroom save through this boudoir, as all your windows were found locked on the inside. How the thief stole by you and your husband unobserved while you sat here, we have yet to discover. But, take it from me, the thief was a member of this household. Good-morning.” Not pausing for reply, the detective vanished.
“A member of this household,” repeated Richards thoughtfully. “Judith, have you no suspicion—no clew?” and his eyes searched her face anxiously.