“I told you I thought it most unlikely,” Jefferson said shortly. Mrs. Plant stooped and looked into the safe. “Oh, there’s my jewel-box,” she said, in tones of relief. “On the bottom shelf.” The inspector bent down and extracted a small case of green leather. “This, madam?” he asked. “You said this is yours?” “Yes. I gave them to him to lock up for me yesterday morning. I never like to leave them lying about in my room if I can help it, you know.” The inspector pressed the catch and the lid of the case flew open. A necklace, a bracelet or two, and a few rings were visible inside; pleasant little trinkets, but not of any remarkable value. Roger exchanged glances with Alec. In the eyes of the latter there was a scarcely concealed derision which Roger found peculiarly difficult to bear in silence. If ever a look said, “I told you so!” Alec’s did at that moment. “I suppose Lady Stanworth can identify these as yours, madam,” the inspector was saying. “Purely as a matter of form,” he added, half apologetically. “Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Plant easily, picking the necklace and a few other things out of the case. “You’ve seen me wearing these, haven’t you, Lady Stanworth?” There was a perceptible pause before Lady Stanworth answered; and it seemed to Roger that she was looking at Mrs. Plant in rather an odd way. Then she said, naturally enough: “Of course. And I remember the case, too. Yes, these belong to Mrs. Plant, Inspector.” “Then we may as well hand them over to her at once,” said the inspector, and Lady Stanworth nodded approvingly. “Is that all you require, Inspector?” Jefferson asked. “Yes, sir; quite. And I’ve had my journey for nothing, I’m afraid. Still, we have to go into everything, as you know.” “Oh, naturally,” Jefferson murmured, turning away from the safe. “And now I must get back and finish my report,” the inspector continued. “The coroner will communicate with you this afternoon as soon as I’ve seen him again.” “Oh, by the way, Inspector,” Mrs. Plant put in, “Mr. Sheringham was telling me that I might be wanted to attend the inquest. Is that necessary?” “I’m afraid so, madam. You were the last person to see Mr. Stanworth alive.” “Yes, but my—my evidence wouldn’t be of the least importance, would it? The few words I had with him about those roses can’t throw any light on the matter at all.” “I’m very sorry, madam,” the inspector murmured, “but in these cases the last person to see the deceased alive is invariably called, whether the evidence appears to be of any importance or not.” “Oh! Then I must take it as quite certain that I shall have to attend?” Mrs. Plant asked disappointedly. “Quite, madam,” the inspector returned firmly, moving towards the door. Roger hooked his arm through that of Alec and drew him out through the French windows. “Well?” asked the latter with an undisguised grin. “Still as sure as ever that those jewels weren’t in the safe, Sherlock Sheringham?”