And now we know that the Chief Constable has left the direct handling of the case to Salt, under a discreet supervision from afar. Wise of the Constable, since he had no hope of reaching the storm-bound house!
By chance at the bottom landing I met Millicent Mertoun. I thought her more lovely than ever, though the terrors of the day before had altered her cheeks to something like the hue of wax. But her inexpressible dark eyes glowed with undimmed fascination. She smiled, courageously, I imagined.
“It’s terrible, isn’t it, Mr. Bannerlee, to have to eat when everything is so awful? But I’m hungry, really. I couldn’t take a bite last night.”
I sympathized.
“Have you heard anyone speak of finding a scarab, quite a small scarab?”
“I’ve just come down myself this morning, you see; so, of course— But perhaps I can help you look for it. Whereabouts do you think you lost it?”
“It’s not mine—it’s Paula’s. She won’t tell anybody about it, of course, because it’s so unimportant compared with . . . She’s troubled about it, though. It’s an heirloom, I believe, from someone of her family who was in Egypt.”
“I shall have a look for it, I assure you.”
“I’m afraid it’s no use looking, thanks, unless someone’s just happened to pick it up. It was a tiny scarab, set in a ring, and it probably came loose outdoors.”
“Outdoors!”