"Listen to me!" he said. "You must be civil to me--that is, if you want me to stay here and try to get your jewels back." Lydia wouldn't look at him. "And what guaranty have I that if you do stay you can do anything about it?" "I think I can get them, and I can assure you the sheriff can't." There was a long pause. "Well?" he said. "Well what?" said Lydia, who hadn't been able to think what she was going to do. "Will you be civil, or shall I go?" "I thought you just said it was your duty to stay." "Make up your mind, please, which shall it be?" Lydia longed to tell him to go, but she did want to get her jewels back, particularly as she was setting out for the Emmonses' in a few minutes, and it would save a lot of trouble to have everything arranged before she left. She thought it over deliberately, and looking up saw that he was amused at her cold-blooded hesitation. Seeing him smile, she found to her surprise that suddenly she smiled back at him. It was not what she had intended. "Well," she thought, "let him think he's getting the best of me. As a matter of fact, I'm using him." She hoped he would be content with the smile, but, no, he insisted on the spoken word. She was forced to say definitely that she would be civil. She carried it off, in her own mind at least, by saying it as if it were a childish game he was playing. Having received the assurance, he moved from the door and stood opposite her, leaning on the back of a chair. "Now tell me what happened?" he said. She told him how she had been waked up just before dawn by the sound of someone moving in her dressing room. At first she had thought it was a window, or a curtain blowing, until she had seen a fine streak of light under the door. Then she had sprung up--to find herself locked in. She had rung her bells, pounded on the door--finally succeeded in rousing the household. The dressing room was empty, but her safe had been opened--her jewels and about five hundred dollars gone--her recent winnings at bridge. "You've had good luck lately?" he asked. "Good partners," she answered with one of her illuminating smiles. She'd gone all over the house after that. Alone? No. Morson had tagged on. Morson was afraid of burglars, having had experience with them in some former place. Besides, she always had a revolver. Oh, yes, she knew how to shoot! She'd gone over the whole house--there wasn't a lock undone. He questioned her about the servants. Suspicion seemed to point to Evans, who had the run of the safe and might so easily have failed to lock it in the evening when she had put her mistress to bed. Lydia demurred at the idea of Evans' guilt. The girl had been with her for five years. "I don't really think she has the courage to steal," she said. "Do you know the circumstances of her life? Anything to make her feel in special need of money just now?" he inquired. Lydia shook her head.