“I should sooner incline to the opinion that the thief was a man, and a guest,” was the deliberate reply; and she added, not without intent, for she was angry, seeing exactly what Duryea had intended to convey to her: “One of the lately arrived guests, at that.”
Lenore clapped her hands.
“That is where you get it back, Ledger,” she exclaimed. “But, really, that was horrid of you, to say such a thing.”
“Who are the lately arrived guests, Miss Nightingale?” asked the detective, without turning his head; and she replied, without hesitation:
“Mr. Dinwiddie is himself the most lately arrived one.”
Duryea laughed aloud.
“Good!” he said. “That is right, too. I arrived that very evening. Now, I wonder if it could have been me? I used to walk in my sleep when I was a child, although I don’t remember that I had the habit of purloining necklaces when I did so. But, then, one never can tell.”
“Indeed one cannot,” retorted Nan. And then, assuming the air of one who was joking, she added: “I should advise a close inspection into your past record, Mr. Dinwiddie, if it is true that you formerly were in the habit of prowling about houses in the night.”
“Gladly!” he exclaimed, joining in the general laugh that followed. “Will you give us the benefit of searching yours, also, Miss Nightingale?”
A slow flush stole into the cheeks and brow of Nan Nightingale, but she was equal to the occasion. She replied: