"It was put in lately, and it was less trouble to do it that way. Now I'll get the pin. It does seem ridiculous to make such a fuss over a pin!"
"Here's a little box," said Mr. Chapin, taking an empty one from the desk, "we can put it in this."
"Why, where is it?" said Iris, looking blank. "I stuck it right in this corner."
Search as they would, in the soft cushions, there was no pin there. Nor had it sunk through the upholstery material. The closely woven brocade would not permit of that. They faced the astounding fact--the pin was gone!
The three looked at one another in consternation.
"Hughes said it was unsafe," Chapin remarked. "He said you didn't remember to pull down the shades in this room when you hid the pin, Iris."
"No, I didn't, but who could get in? The windows are barred----"
"But the door to the living room was open, and we were all in the dining room--anyone could have come in at the front door and walked in here----"
"Very silently, then, or we could have heard footsteps from the dining room."
"But it must have been done that way. Someone looking in at these windows saw you put the pin in the chair, and a few moments later, watching his chance, sneaked in and stole it."
"Then it was Pollock, or some messenger of his. But what _can_ he want of it?"
"The whole thing is _too_ mysterious!" exclaimed Lucille. "Let's send for a city detective at once."
"But," objected Iris, "what could he do?"
"Do? He could do everything! Find the murderer, find the jewels, find the pin----"
"Good gracious!" cried Iris. "I don't want the pin! In fact, I'm glad it's gone. Now, they won't be kidnapping me to get it! But I'm going to find the jewels. And I'm going to start on a new tack. I'm no good at solving mysteries, but I can investigate. I'm going to Chicago----"
"Whatever for?" exclaimed Lucille; "I'll go with you!"
"No; I'm going alone, and I'm going because I feel sure I can find out something there. I'll see the minister of the church Auntie attended, and see if she promised him a chalice, or if his church has a crypt, or if those people she spoke of in her will--that firm, you know--can tell me anything about the receipt that was in the pocket-book she left to Win."
"But it wasn't in the pocket-book!" reminded Chapin.