"I had it on when I went into my room," she declared, "and I put it on
the dressing table when I undressed. I meant to put it under my pillow,
but I forgot. And I didn't sleep well; I was awake half the night.
Wasn't I, Dal? Then, when the clock downstairs in the hall was chiming
five, something roused me, and I sat up in bed. It was still dark, but I
pinched Dal and said there was somebody in the room. You remember that,
don't you, Dal?"
"I thought you had nightmare," he said sheepishly.
"I lay still for ages, it seemed to me, and then--the door into the
hall closed. I heard the catch click. I turned on the light over the bed
then, and the room was empty. I thought of my collar, and although it
seemed ridiculous, with the house sealed as it is, and all of us friends
for years--well, I got up and looked, and it was gone!"
No one spoke for an instant. It WAS a queer situation, for the collar
was gone; Anne's red eyes showed it was true. And there we stood, every
one of us a miserable picture of guilt, and tried to look innocent and
debonair and unsuspicious. Finally Jim held up his hand and signified
that he wanted to say something.
"It's like this," he said, "until this thing is cleared up, for Heaven's
sake, let's try to be sane! If every fellow thinks the other fellow
did it, this house will be a nice little hell to live in. And if
anybody"--here he glared around--"if anybody has got funny and is hiding
those jewels, I want to say that he'd better speak up now. Later, it
won't be so easy for him. It's a mighty poor joke."
But nobody spoke.