“Jimmy always was discriminating, when it came to a selection of jewels,” said Chick, with a slow smile.
“Right again. But because of the disappearance of those jewels, Nan finds herself in a perplexity. Now, I’ll tell you the story just as it is.”
“All right.”
“It happened last Thursday night. Nan had not been feeling up to the mark that day. She had kept herself rather to herself, since morning. During the day Mrs. Remsen told Nan that she was expecting another guest that evening—a gentleman from the South, named Dinwiddie; Ledger Dinwiddie, to be exact.”
“Rather a high-sounding title, that; eh?”
“Yes. Well, Nan didn’t go down to dinner that evening, so she did not meet the guest, when he arrived. She retired early—that is, she arranged herself in comfortable attire, and kept to her own room, where she passed the time in reading. About eleven o’clock, she tried to compose herself to sleep, but after an hour of vain effort in that line, she decided that it was of no use, and sought another book. There did not happen to be one handy which interested her, and so, garbed in a wrapper, she descended the stairs to the library.”
“It sounds like a chapter out of a book, Nick.”
“It does, for a fact; but you haven’t got the real thing, yet.”
“Go ahead, then.”
“She had bed slippers on her feet, which made no sound as she walked. She crossed the lower hall, after descending the stairs, and stepped into the library, reaching around the jamb of the doorway, as she did so, to switch on the electric lights—and she did it so quickly that she failed to notice that there was a single light already burning in the room.”