What was it her husband had told her? She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples in an effort to remember. He had returned just as she reached the hall, had carried her unconscious to their boudoir, revived her, gone downstairs for a bottle of bromides and discovered Austin lying murdered in the library. She whitened to the lips. Had he seized the opportunity to rifle her father’s safe, the door of which was open, before sending for the coroner and police?
He had sold Valve bonds belonging to her which had disappeared that night from the safe, and now—Judith raised her hands in silent, passionate protest—if Joe, in dire need of money, had yielded to sudden overwhelming temptation and taken her bonds, why—why had he stolen Austin’s watch? It could bring him no money return, for the first attempt to sell it would focus suspicion upon him.
If he had been so mad as to steal the watch as well as the bonds, why had he been so foolhardy as to send it to a watchmaker to have the chain repaired, trusting to any messenger to return it to him unknown to others?
Judith stopped short in her restless walk as a sudden idea occurred to her. Was her husband a kleptomaniac? Had he yielded to an insane impulse to steal? Judith racked her brain to remember what she had heard of kleptomania—that it was a recognized mental derangement, an irresponsible and irresistible propensity to steal, and that the kleptomaniac cared nothing for the objects stolen as soon as the craze to steal was gratified. But Joe had cared enough to sell her Valve bonds. That might have been a sane act, Judith acknowledged to herself bitterly, but to take a useless watch which would surely involve him in another and greater crime was the act of insanity.
Would involve him—it had already involved him. Judith’s breath came faster and perspiration appeared in beads on her forehead. She knew John Hale’s stubborn will, his passionate affection for Polly Davis—he would move heaven and earth to convict her husband. What more likely than that he was already at Police Headquarters swearing out a warrant for his arrest?
Judith’s loyalty to her husband was instantly in arms. He might be a kleptomaniac,—if so, he was to be pitied and protected,—but he was not a murderer—Judith’s faith remained unshaken. With all her woman’s wit she would prove him worthy of her trust and devotion, and clear him of any suspicion of complicity in Austin’s murder.
But how to go about it? The locket had disappeared while she and her husband were sitting in the boudoir through which the thief had to pass to enter the bedroom. There was but one person to her knowledge to whom the locket was of vital importance—Polly Davis. And she, Judith, had informed Polly that it was in her possession only a short time before its disappearance. But the only living persons who had had an opportunity to steal her jewelry were—herself or her husband.
Judith shuddered—had Joe’s thieving propensities caused him to take her jewelry? Her back had been toward him when he went to get her glass of water, but even if there had been time for him to slip into their bedroom and get the jewelry, where had he hidden it without her seeing him? Judith stared dully at the opposite wall, despair tugging at her heartstrings.
“Hello, Judith,” called a cheery voice from the doorway, and Judith, whirling around with a violent start, saw Dr. McLane, black bag in hand, looking at her. “I have just been upstairs treating Anna’s ankle and I stopped in here on my way out to see if any one was at home.”
“Come in, doctor,” she exclaimed. “You have arrived in answer to my thoughts.”