The Diamond Pin Part 27

"Draw the shades first, don't fail to use every precaution. That's right; I'll switch on a light. Why do you have this table light on this long cord?"

"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."

But the pin was gone!

Search as they would, in the soft cus.h.i.+ons, 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!

CHAPTER XII

IN CHICAGO

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.

"It was when Aunt Ursula made that will. The murderer took it, and, Mr.

Chapin, that lets Win out! Why should he steal a paper that was meant for him anyway?"

"He didn't know then that it was left to him, did he?"

"I don't know that, I'm sure. But I know Win didn't kill Aunt Ursula, and it's awful to keep him shut up!"

"I think myself they hardly had enough evidence to arrest him on, but Hughes thought they did, and the district attorney is hard at work on the case now."

"Yes, hard at work!" Iris spoke scornfully, "what's he doing, I'd like to know."

"These things move slowly, Iris----"

"Well, I'll do a little quick work, then, and show them how. I'm going to Chicago to-morrow, and I'll be gone several days, but I'll be back as soon as possible and there'll be something doing, or I'll know why!"

"Your energy is all right, Iris," said Chapin, "but a bit misdirected----"

"Nothing of the sort," snapped Iris, who considered the lawyer an old fogy; "it's time somebody got busy, and I don't take much stock in the local police."

"But about the pin," pursued Lucille, "I think you ought to find out who stole it just now, Iris. Maybe it was somebody in the house. Where is Purdy?"

"Purdy!" cried Iris, "don't suspect him, Lucille! Why, he is as faithful and honest as I am myself."

"But where was he?"

"I don't know, and I don't care; he wasn't in here stealing the pin."

"Perhaps it's still in the chair," suggested Chapin.

But it wasn't. A careful search showed that, and as inquiries proved that Purdy and his wife were in the kitchen and Agnes had been waiting on Iris at her belated dinner, there was really no reason to suspect the servants. Campbell, the chauffeur, was in the garage, and there were no other servants about on Sunday. The disappearance of the pin was as inexplicable as the murder, and Iris decided to give up the house mysteries, and look in Chicago for new light.

She started the next day, Lucille and Agnes hovering over her in a solicitude of final preparations.

"I'll take only a suitcase," Iris declared, "for I can't be bothered with a trunk."

"I wish you'd let Agnes go with you," urged Lucille, who hated to have the girl go alone.

But Iris didn't want to take a maid along, and, too, Agnes didn't want to go.

"I'll go if you say so," Agnes demurred, "but I'd hate to leave here just now. Sam is on one of his spells, and I ought to look after him."

"Oh, yes," and Iris smiled at her, "that's one word for Sam and two for yourself! I think that good-looking young man who calls on you has more power to keep you in Berrien than poor Sam!"

Agnes blushed, but didn't deny it.

So Iris went to Chicago alone. She went to a woman's hotel, and established herself there. Then she set out in search of the church that Mrs. Pell used to attend.

The rector, Dr. Stephenson, was a kindly, courteous old man, who received her with a pleasant welcome. He well remembered Ursula Pell, and was deeply interested in the mystery of her tragic death. It was many years since she had lived in Chicago, and his definite memories of her were largely concerning the pranks she used to play, for even the minister had not been spared her annoying fooleries.

But he knew nothing of any gift of a jeweled chalice, and said he really had no desire for such a thing.