“Indeed!” Ferguson’s eyes snapped with excitement. Was he to learn something tangible at last. “What was stolen?”
“Austin owned a valuable antique watch.” John Hale spoke slowly, impressively, checking off each word on his finger. “He always carried it—it was almost a fetish with him. The watch is missing.”
Concealed by the portières, Judith Richards leaned limply against the door-jamb of the library and only Anna, the waitress, passing through the hall, heard her astounded gasp, followed by a low moan.
CHAPTER VI
SPECULATION
It was lacking twenty minutes of noon and Polly Davis frowned discontentedly as she consulted her wrist-watch. She was under positive instructions from Robert Hale to complete the compilation of data given to her the week before. Hale’s cramped and peculiar style of penmanship was difficult to read at any time, and with her thoughts wandering far afield, Polly found her task more irksome than usual.
Swiftly her fingers moved over the familiar typewriter keys and with mechanical exactness she copied—copied, pausing now and then to decipher a nearly unintelligible paragraph, until she came to the end of the manuscript notes. But her sigh of relief changed to a swift, disgusted ejaculation as, dragging the last sheet out of the typewriter she discovered that she had carelessly reversed the carbon and that the second copy, intended for Hale’s files, was blank. The impression, which should have been on it, was stamped, instead, on the back of the top sheet.
With a gesture of rage she crumpled the sheet in her hand and hurled it into the scrap basket. In its flight the paper ball just missed striking Anna, the waitress, whose noiseless entry a second before had escaped her attention. At sight of the servant Polly lowered her hand, still raised after flinging the paper ball, and her features relaxed to their wonted expression.
“I did not mean to bombard you, Anna,” she apologized. “Would you mind moving the scrap basket over here where it will be more handy? Thanks,” as the servant complied with her request. “Any letters for Mr. Hale?”
“The postman hasn’t brought the second mail yet, Miss Polly.” Anna unfolded a small card table and stood it in front of Polly. “I hope you don’t mind having your luncheon a little earlier to-day, miss. The Madam gave me this afternoon off to go to the movies.”
“Mind? Well, hardly, I’m ravenous,” and Polly brightened as Anna put a well-laden tray before her. “You are quite a movie fan, Anna; what are you going to see to-day?”