Greeting him in the offhand way least likely to develop
his suspicion, I told him that I had a great idea in connection
with the Jeffrey case and that the clue to it lay in a little gold
ball which Mrs. Jeffrey sometimes wore and upon which she set great
store. So far I spoke the truth. It had been given her by some
one - not Mr. Jeffrey - and I believed, though I did not know, that
it contained a miniature portrait which it might be to our advantage
to see.
I expected his lip to curl; but for a wonder it maintained its
noncommittal aspect, though I was sure that I caught a slight, very
slight, gleam of curiosity lighting up for a moment his calm, gray
eye.
"You are on a fantastic trail," he sneered, and that was all.
But I had not expected more. I had merely wished to learn what
place, if any, this filigree ball held in his own suspicions, and
in case he had overlooked it, to jog his curiosity so that he would
in some way betray its whereabouts.
That, for all its seeming inconsequence, it did hold some place in
his mind was evident enough to those who knew him; but that it was
within reach or obtainable by any ordinary means was not so plain.
Indeed, I very soon became convinced that he, for one, had no idea
where it was, or after the suggestive hint I had given him he would
never have wasted a half-hour on me.
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