"You can imagine how I felt," Letitia went on presently, "when I discovered the loss of the valuables. I didn't mind the whisky flask, or the comb, or the spoons, but the ring you gave me, Archie--it almost broke my heart to lose it. Just as I had made up my mind to send for you, there was a peal at the bell, and in stalked a woman, who said she was Mrs. Archer, living in the apartment below us." "How horribly informal!" I exclaimed. "How do we know anything about Mrs. Archer?" "It wasn't an occasion for etiquette, Archie. Mrs. Archer was in a desperate state. It seems that her cook spent most of her time with Mrs. Potzenheimer, when we were dining out at restaurants on account of Mrs. Potzenheimer's health. The irony of it all! Her cook was another antiquity, with an aristocratic record. She had come to Mrs. Archer, without references, but had declared she had lived with the Ogden Goelets." "Go on, Letitia," I said, in a Sherlock Holmes voice. "_And_ Mrs. Ogden Goelet was in Europe, visiting the Duchess of Roxburghe. _And_ the Duchess of Roxburghe had been very much attached to her, and had been crazy to take her to London. _And_ she was too old to go, and wanted to 'rest her bones' in New York. _And_ she was always ailing, and nothing seemed to do her any good but gin and whisky." "I guessed it, Letitia," I cried triumphantly; "I guessed it." "She behaved precisely like Mrs. Potzenheimer. She came from the same intelligence office. She left, at a moment's notice." "Taking with her a diamond ring, six silver spoons, a gold whisky flask, and a comb with pearls and turquoises," I went on glibly, still in those staccato Sherlock Holmes tones. "Or valuables to that effect," corrected Letitia. "Certainly," I assented judicially, "certainly. It is clear, Letitia, that these women must have been in league, and that a carefully planned robbery has been effected." "If you had made that discovery yesterday, Archie, before it had been effected, you might have done some good. Of course, it is quite clear to-day. A child could see that," she added impatiently. "I wish you wouldn't interrupt me with such wonderful deductions, dear. I dare say they _are_ clever, but--" Letitia's irritable tone hurt me. The pain of these incidents had been temporarily deadened by my Sherlock Holmes demeanor. Still, I was bound to confess that, as Letitia pointed out, the case did seem simple. "Mrs. Archer seemed furious with _me_," Letitia said querulously. "The more we discovered that our troubles coincided, the angrier she grew. At one time"--and here Letitia flushed--"she seemed to be positively suspicious. She had noticed the constant communication between the two cooks by means of the dumb-waiter." "The dumb-waiter seems to be a sort of hyphen, connecting devils," I interpolated epigrammatically.