"That was all I heard; but . . . there was a small blue box of jewellery sitting on the table."
"My word!—a box of jewellery! Do you know whose it was?"
"No, sir, I don't. The lady hadn't brought it, and I never saw it in the house before."
"How did you know it was jewellery?"
"When Mr. Benson went upstairs to dress, I came in to clear the tea things away, and it was still sitting on the table."
Vance smiled.
"And you played Pandora and took a peep—eh, what? Most natural,—I'd have done it myself."
He stepped back, and bowed politely.
"That will be all, Mrs. Platz. . . . And you needn't worry about the young lady. Nothing is going to happen to her."
When she had left us, Markham leaned forward and shook his cigar at Vance.
"Why didn't you tell me you had information about the case unknown to me?"
"My dear chap!" Vance lifted his eyebrows in protestation. "To what do you refer specifically?"
"How did you know this St. Clair woman had been here in the afternoon?"
"I didn't; but I surmised it. There were cigarette butts of hers in the grate; and, as I knew she hadn't been here on the night Benson was shot, I thought it rather likely she had been here earlier in the day. And since Benson didn't arrive from his office until four, I whispered into my ear that she had called sometime between four and the hour of his departure for dinner. . . . An element'ry syllogism, what?"
