IV

The next morning Eve behaved to her husband exactly as if nothing
untoward had happened. She kissed and was kissed. She exhibited
sweetness without gaiety, and a general curiosity without interest. She
said not a word concerning the visit of Sissie and Ozzie. She expressed
the hope that Mr. Prohack had had a pleasant evening and slept well. Her
anxiety to be agreeable to Mr. Prohack was touching,--it was angelic. To
the physical eye all was as usual, but Mr. Prohack was aware that in a
single night she had built a high and unscalable wall between him and
her; a wall which he could see through and which he could kiss through,
but which debarred him utterly from her. And yet what sin had he
committed against her, save the peccadillo of locking her for an hour or
two in a comfortable room? It was Sissie, not he, who had committed the
sin. He wanted to point this out to Eve, but he appreciated the entire
futility of doing so and therefore refrained. About eleven o'clock Eve
knocked at and opened his study door.

"May I come in--or am I disturbing you?" she asked brightly.

"Don't be a silly goose," said Mr. Prohack, whose rising temper--he
hated angels--was drowning his tact. Smiling as though he had thrown her
a compliment, Eve came in, and shut the door.

"I've just received this," she said. "It came by messenger." And she
handed him a letter signed with the name of Crewd, the private
detective. The letter ran: "Madam, I beg to inform you that I have just
ascertained that the driver of taxi No. 5437 has left at New Scotland
Yard a pearl necklace which he found in his vehicle. He states that he
drove a lady and gentleman from your house to Waterloo Station on the
evening of your reception, but can give no description of them. I
mention the matter _pro forma_, but do not anticipate that it can
interest you as the police authorities at New Scotland Yard declare the
pearls to be false. Yours obediently.... P.S. I called upon you in order
to communicate the above facts yesterday, but you were not at home."

Mr. Prohack turned a little pale, and his voice trembled as he said,
looking up from the letter:

"I wonder who the thief was. Anyhow, women are staggering. Here some
woman--I'm sure it was the woman and not the man--picks up a necklace
from the floor of one of your drawing-rooms, well knowing it not to be
her own, hides it, makes off with it, and then is careless enough to
leave it in a taxi! Did you ev