Detective and mystery stories, English; Private investigators -- England -- Fiction
At Twyford Station Sir James Norris was waiting with a dog-cart. Sir James
was a tall, florid man of fifty or thereabout, known away from home as
something of a county historian, and nearer his own parts as a great
supporter of the hunt, and a gentleman much troubled with poachers. As
soon as he and Hewitt had found one another the baronet hurried the
detective into his dog-cart. "We've something over seven miles to drive,"
he said, "and I can tell you all about this wretched business as we go.
That is why I came for you myself, and alone."
Hewitt nodded.
"I have sent for you, as Lloyd probably told you, because of a robbery at
my place last evening. It appears, as far as I can guess, to be one of
three by the same hand, or by the same gang. Late yesterday afternoon----"
"Pardon me, Sir James," Hewitt interrupted, "but I think I must ask you to
begin at the first robbery and tell me the whole tale in proper order. It
makes things clearer, and sets them in their proper shape."
"Very well! Eleven months ago, or thereabout, I had rather a large party
of visitors, and among them Colonel Heath and Mrs. Heath--the lady being a
relative of my own late wife. Colonel Heath has not been long retired, you
know--used to be political resident in an Indian native state. Mrs. Heath
had rather a good stock of jewelry of one sort and another, about the most
valuable piece being a bracelet set with a particularly fine pearl--quite
an exceptional pearl, in fact--that had been one of a heap of presents
from the maharajah of his state when Heath left India.
"It was a very noticeable bracelet, the gold setting being a mere
feather-weight piece of native filigree work--almost too fragile to trust
on the wrist--and the pearl being, as I have said, of a size and quality
not often seen. Well, Heath and his wife arrived late one evening, and
after lunch the following day, most of the men being off by
themselves--shooting, I think--my daughter, my sister (who is very often
down here), and Mrs. Heath took it into their heads to go
walking--fern-hunting, and so on. My sister was rather long dressing, and,
while they waited, my daughter went into Mrs. Heath's room, where Mrs.
Heath turned over all her treasures to show her, as women do, you know.
When my sister was at last ready, they came straight away, leaving the
things littering about the room rather than stay longer to pack them up.
The bracelet, with other things, was on the dressing-table then."
"One moment. As to the door?"
"They locked it. As they came away my daughter suggested turning the key,
as we had one or two new servants about."
"And the window?"
"That they left open, as I was going to tell you. Well, they went on their
walk and came back, with Lloyd (whom they had met somewhere) carrying
their ferns for them. It was dusk and almost dinner-time. Mrs. Heath went
straight to her room, and--the bracelet was gone."
"Was the room disturbed?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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