“Yes,” Mrs. Geldard replied, “he carried all four.” Hewitt’s simple, methodical calmness, and his plain disregard of her former volubility, appeared by this to have disciplined Mrs. Geldard into a businesslike brevity and directness of utterance. “As to the watch now. Can you describe it?” “Oh, it was only a cheap one. He had a gold one stolen--or at any rate he told me so--and since then he has only carried a very common sort of silver one, without a chain.” “The keys?” “I only know there _was_ a bunch of keys. Some of them fitted drawers and bureaux at home, and others, I suppose, fitted locks in this office.” “What of the pocket-knife?” “That was a very uncommon one. It was a present, as a matter of fact, from an engineering friend, who had had it made specially. It was large, with a tortoise-shell handle and a silver plate with his initials. There was only one ordinary knife-blade in it; all the other implements were small tools or things of that kind. There was a small pair of silver calipers, for instance.” “Like these?” Hewitt suggested, producing those he used for measuring drawers and cabinets in search of secret receptacles. “Yes, like those. And there were folding steel compasses, a tiny flat spanner, a little spirit level, and a number of other small instruments of that sort. It was very well made indeed; he used to say that it could not have been made for five pounds.” “Indeed?” Hewitt cast his eyes about the two rooms. “I see no signs of books here, Mrs. Geldard--account-books I mean, of course. Your husband must have kept account-books, I take it?” “Yes, naturally, he must have done. I never saw them, of course, but every business man keeps books.” Then after a pause Mrs. Geldard continued: “And they’re gone too. I never thought of _that._ But there, I might have known as much. Who can trust a man safely if his own wife can’t? But _I_ won’t shield him. Whatever he’s been doing with his clients’ money he’ll have to answer for himself. Thank Heaven I’ve enough to live on of my own without being dependent on a creature like him! But think of the disgrace! My husband nothing better than a common thief--swindling his clients and making away with his books when he can’t go on any longer! But he shall be punished, oh yes; _I’ll_ see he’s punished, if once I find him!” Hewitt thought for a moment, and then asked, “Do you know any of your husband’s clients, Mrs. Geldard?” “No,” she answered, rather snappishly, “I don’t. I’ve told you he never let me know anything of his business--never anything at all; and very good reason he had too, that’s certain.” “Then probably you do not happen to know the contents of these drawers?” Hewitt pursued, tapping the writing-table as he spoke. “Oh, there’s nothing of importance in them--at any rate in the unlocked ones. I looked at all of them this morning when I first came.”