“Many thanks. Now, Mr. Kirby, will you take me to see Mrs. Hale?”
The young widow received them in her sitting-room. She was of the slender, big-eyed, sensitive type of womanhood; her piquant face marred by the evidences of sleeplessness and tears. To Average Jones she gave her confidence at once. People usually did.
“I felt sure the advertisement would bring us help,” she said wistfully. “Now, I feel surer than ever.”
“Faith helps the worst case,” said the young man, smiling. “Mr. Kirby tells me that the intruder awakened you.”
“Yes; and I’m a very heavy sleeper. Still I can’t say positively that anything definite roused me; it was rather an impression of some one’s being about. I came out of my bedroom and looked around the outer room, but there was nobody there.”
“You didn’t think to look for the necklace?”
“No,” she said with a little gasp; “if I only had!”
“And—er—you didn’t happen to hear a clinking noise, did you?”
“No.”
“After he’d got into the room he’d put the key up, wouldn’t he?” suggested Kirby.