She thought over the story Iris had told her of the intruder of the night before, and slowly a vague suggestion of something wrong shaped itself in her brain. She realized that if Iris had gone on an errand, or had gone for a ride with Roger Downing, or any other friend or caller, she would certainly have told Lucille she was going. For Iris was punctilious in her courtesy, and the two women really got along very well together. She called old Polly in and asked her what she thought about it. "I don't know," and the cook shook her head. "I'd just been talking to her about that pin Mrs. Pell left to her----" "Good heavens! Polly! That pin again? Why--what _is_ there about that pin? What do _you_ know of it?" "Well," and the old face was very serious, "I've been acquainted with that pin for years." "Is it a special pin?" "Very special." "Why? What's its value?" "That I don't know, ma'am, 'cept I'm thinking it's a lucky pin." "Oh, how ridiculous! Why, you're not even sure the pin is in existence--I mean, that anybody knows of." "Oh, yes, ma'am, I just gave that pin to Miss Iris this morning." "_You_ did! Where did you get it?" "Well, I hooked it offen Agnes." "What does this all mean? Why did you take it from Agnes? And where did she get it?" "Well, Miss Darrel, ma'am, it's all mighty queer. I don't say's there's any such thing as luck, and then, I don't say as there isn't. Anyway, Mrs. Pell guarded that pin like everything while she was alive, and she left it to Miss Iris when she died. Don't that look like it was a Luck?" "Oh, that bequest business was a joke. Surely you know that." "Not altogether it wasn't. The dime part was, maybe, but that pin--why, I _know_ that pin, I tell you!" "Do you mean you'd know that pin apart from a lot of other common pins?" "No'm--I don't know as I can say that--but, well, maybe I could tell it." "Polly, you're out of your head! But never mind all that now, tell me what you think of Miss Iris' absence? You know her. Would she run off anywhere just before dinner on Sunday, without telling anyone?" "That she would not! Miss Iris is most considerate and thoughtful. She'd never go away without seeing you first." "That's what I think. Then where is she?" "I don't know, ma'am, but--but I'm--I'm awful scared!" And flinging her apron over her face, as she burst into sobs, Polly ran out of the room. Thoroughly alarmed, Lucille spoke again to Agnes. "You're not _sure_ you saw Miss Clyde in that car?" "Oh, no, ma'am. I didn't see her at all. Only I didn't know the car, and I thought she might be in it. I know Mr. Downing's car, and Mr. Chapin's, and----" "I think I'll telephone Mr. Chapin. What with murderings and maraudings this house is a frightful place! I almost wish it wasn't mine!" She called Mr. Chapin on the telephone, and he came over as quickly as he could. Then she told him of the intruder of the night before, and of the other efforts that had been made to get the pin.