"Of course. Lots of people knew she had that necklace. There'll be a lot of stink when Miss Babs finds out it's been stolen. But they'll never pin it on us. I'm not a fool, wiped everything off. Not a chance I left any fingerprints."
"But Gil, the police! they'll—"
"Sure. They'll question us all. So what? We'll just sit tight, and leave the necklace down there in the woods while we wait a good two years. Then all we do is say we'll have a go at service in England again. I'll sell the diamonds over there one by one. Who'll ever be the wiser?"
It was nice to hear the drone of the voices for a while, and then Toory's attention drifted away. The weathercock on the roof gable began squeaking again. It was always loud on windy nights. It blended with the human-voice murmurs.
"I didn't know the blarsted thing was in the house, I tell you. I thought it had taken Miss Babs out for a walk."
"Gil, it saw you take the necklace!"
"It did. But I tell you I didn't know it had come back with Miss Babs. I never thought about it at all."
"You could have waited until some other day. You could have—"
"Stop jawin' at me, Mary. It's done now."