“Miss Gregg is right, sir,” said the chief, who, like the rest of the community, stood in chronic fear of the eccentrically powerful old dame. “And there’s no need to use ugly words like ‘plot,’ when you’re speaking to a lady like her. Mr. Vail’s income is estimated at not less than $200,000, just as she’s told you. As for his running a tavern or a hotel, he doesn’t. This is his estate, inherited from the late Mr. Osmun Vail. I read in the paper, yesterday, that a clause of the will of Mr. Osmun Vail makes him keep a part of the house open, if necessary, as an inn. Whether or not that’s true, or just a newspaper yarn, I don’t know. But I do know that Mr. Vail could have no financial reason for stealing jewelry or small rolls of bills or cheap watches.” He spoke with the pride of locality, in impressing an outlander with a neighbor’s importance. Thaxton Vail, thoroughly uncomfortable, had tried in vain, once or twice, to stem the tide of the chief’s eloquence and that of the old lady. Now he sat, silent, eyes down, face red. Joshua Q. Mosely arose and came closer, staring at the embarrassed youth as if at some new-discovered specimen. His wife fluttered and wiggled, eyeing Vail as she might have eyed a stage hero. “Well, I’m sure,” she said, mincingly, “that puts a new turn on everything. Quite a romantic--” “Luella,” decreed her husband, breathing hard through his nose, “I guess we’ve made fools of ourselves, horning in here, to-day. Just the same,” he went on, scourged by memory of his loss, “that don’t clear up who stole our joolry. Nor yet it don’t give our joolry back to us. And those two things are more important just now than whether Mr. Vail is a multimillionaire or not.” “Quite so,” agreed the chief. “We don’t seem to be getting much further in the case. Since Mr. Vail objects to being searched and objects to his guests being searched--well, I have no warrant to search them. But I take it there’s no objection to my searching the house, once more--especially the servants’ quarters and all that?” “None at all,” said Vail. “Ring for Horoson. She’ll show you around.” “I guess I and Mrs. M. will turn in,” said Mosely, “if we’re not needed any longer. We’re pretty tired, the both of us. Came all the way through from Manchester since sunrise, you know. And we’ve got to be off first thing in the morning. Chief, I’ll stop in at the police station on my way to-morrow and leave our _ad_dress and post a reward. G’night, all.” He and his wife departed to the upper regions, gabbling together in low, excited tones as they went. The housekeeper appeared, in answer to Vail’s ring. The chief and the constable strode off in her indignant wake to make their tour of inspection. “I wish,” said Willis Chase, vindictively, “I wish those Mosely persons and that road-company police chief could be made to take turns occupying the magenta room. That’s the worst I can wish any one. I--”