“There is no other. And even that’s an impossible solution, remembering the locked door!”
“If you leave out the question of the locked door,” said Mrs. Webb, “then I should suspect a burglar, who came to steal the diamond pendant.”
“Is that missing?” asked Whiting, looking shocked.
“We don’t know,” said Henrietta. “Kimball had it last night, he showed it to mother after he came home—”
“He had it at the dinner,” vouchsafed Whiting; “he showed it to us all. Oh, he wasn’t parading it,—he chanced to have it in his pocket, and Wally Courtney, I think it was, asked to see it. Courtney’s a gem fancier, I believe. Well, we all looked at it with interest. It’s a great little old jewel, you know!”
“Yes,” agreed Miss Webb, “I never saw finer stones; and the four of them, so perfectly matched, yet of graduated sizes, make a wonderful pendant. As they hang, below one another, they look like dripping water.”
“An exquisite gift,” said Whiting. “Have you searched for it thoroughly?”
“Haven’t looked at all,” declared Henrietta. “You see, it would take a careful search. For if Kimball hid it from possible thieves, he hid it very securely, I’ve no doubt.”
“Under his pillow, maybe?”
“Oh, I don’t think so. But I’ll look everywhere. Just now, I’m more anxious to find my brother than his diamonds.”