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“Right away, sir.”

I watched as the boy disappeared down the long corridor. “Gillette,” I said, lowering my voice, “this Baker Street set is quite comfortable in its way, but do you not think a bit of privacy might be indicated? Holmes is accustomed to conducting his interviews in confidence. Anyone might hear what passes between us here at the center of the stage.”

Gillette smiled. “I am not Sherlock Holmes,” he repeated.

After a moment or two Quinn stepped from the wings with Miss Fenton trailing behind him. Miss Fenton’s eyes and nose were red with weeping, and she was attended by Miss Kendall, who hovered protectively by her side. “May I remain, Mr. Gillette?” asked the older actress. “Miss Fenton is terribly upset by all of this.”

“Of course,” said Gillette in a soothing manner. “I shall try to dispense with the questioning as quickly as possible. Please be seated.” He folded his hands and leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me, Miss Fenton, are you quite certain that the brooch was in your possession when you arrived at the theater this morning?”

“Of course,” the actress replied. “1 had no intention of letting it out of my sight. I placed the pin in my jewelry case as I changed into costume.”

“And the jewelry case was on top of your dressing table?”

“Yes.”

“In plain sight?”

“Yes, but I saw no harm in that. I was alone at the time. Besides, Miss Kendall is the only other woman in the company, and I trust her as I would my own sister.” She reached across and took the older woman’s hand.

“No doubt,” said Gillette, “but do you mean to say that you intended to leave the gem in the dressing room during the rehearsal? Forgive me, but that seems a bit careless.”

“That was not my intention at all, Mr. Gillette. Once in costume, I planned to pin the brooch to my stockings. I should like to have worn it in plain view, but James — that is to say, the gentleman who gave it to me — would not have approved. He does not want anyone — he does not approve of ostentation.”

“In any case,” I said, “Alice Faulkner would hardly be likely to own such a splendid jewel.”

“Yes,” said Miss Fenton. “Just so.”

Gillette steepled his fingers. “How exactly did the jewel come to be stolen? It appears that it never left your sight.”

“It was unforgivable of me,” said Miss Fenton. “I arrived late to the theater this morning. In my haste, I overturned an entire pot of facial powder. I favor a particular type, Gervaise Graham’s Satinette, and I wished to see if I could persuade someone to step out and purchase a fresh supply for me. I can only have been gone for a moment. I stepped into the hallway looking for one of the stagehands, but of course they were all in their places in anticipation of the scene three set change. When I found no one close by, I realized that I had better finish getting ready as best I could without the powder.”

“So you returned to the dressing area?”

“Yes.”

“How long would you say that you were out of the room?”

“Two or three minutes. No more.”

“And when you returned the brooch was gone?”

She nodded. “That was when I screamed.”

“Indeed.” Gillette stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “Extraordinary,” he said, pacing a short line before a scenery flat decorated to resemble a bookcase. “Miss Kendall?”

“Yes?”

“Has anything been stolen from you?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “Well, not this time.”

Gillette raised an eyebrow. “Not this time?”

The actress hesitated. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said. “From time to time I have noticed that one or two small things have gone astray. Nothing of any value. A small mirror, perhaps, or a copper or two.”

Miss Fenton nodded. “I’ve noticed that as well. I assumed that I’d simply misplaced the items. It was never anything to trouble over.”

Gillette frowned. “Miss Fenton, a moment ago, when the theft became known, it was clear that Miss Kendall was already aware that you had the brooch in your possession. May I ask who else among the company knew of the sapphire?”

“No one,” the actress said. “I only received the gift yesterday, but I would have been unlikely to flash it about, in any case. I couldn’t resist showing it to Selma, however.”

“No one else knew of it?”

“No one.”

Gillette turned to Miss Kendall. “Did you mention it to anyone?”

“Certainly not, Mr. Gillette.”

The actor resumed his pacing. “You’re quite certain? It may have been a perfectly innocent remark.”

“Maude asked me not to say anything to anyone,” said Miss Kendall. “We women are rather good with secrets.”

Gillette’s mouth pulled up slightly at the corners. “So I gather, Miss Kendall. So I gather.” He turned and studied the false book spines on the painted scenery flat. “Thank you for your time, ladies.”

I watched as the two actresses departed. “Gillette,” I said after a moment, “if Miss Kendall did not mention the sapphire to anyone, who else could have known that it existed?”

“No one,” he answered.

“Are you suggesting—” I leaned forward and lowered my voice. “Are you suggesting that Miss Kendall is the thief? After all, if she was the only one who knew—”

“No, Lyndal. I do not believe Miss Kendall is the thief.”

“Still,” I said, “there is little reason to suppose that she kept her own counsel. A theatrical company is a hotbed of gossip and petty jealousies.” I paused as a new thought struck me. “Miss Fenton seems most concerned with protecting the identify of her gentleman admirer, although this will not be possible if the police have to be summoned. Perhaps the theft was orchestrated to expose him.” I considered the possibility for a moment. “Yes, perhaps the intended victim is really this unknown patron, whomever he might be. He is undoubtedly a man of great wealth and position. Who knows? Perhaps this sinister plot extends all the way to the—”

“I think not,” said Gillette.

“No?”

“If the intention was nothing more than to expose a dalliance between a young actress and a man of position, one need not have resorted to theft. A word in the ear of certain society matrons would have the same effect, and far more swiftly.” He threw himself back down in his chair. “No, I believe that this was a crime of opportunity, rather than design. Miss Kendall and Miss Fenton both reported having noticed one or two small things missing from their dressing area on previous occasions. It seems that we have a petty thief in our midst, and that this person happened across the sapphire during those few moments when it was left unattended in the dressing room.”

“But who could it be? Most of us were either onstage or working behind the scenes, in plain view of at least one other person at all times.”

“So it would seem, but I’m not entirely convinced that someone couldn’t have slipped away for a moment or two without being noticed. The crew members are forever darting in and out. It would not have drawn any particular notice if one of them had slipped away for a moment or two.”

“Then we shall have to question the suspects,” I said. “We must expose this nefarious blackguard at once.”

Gillette regarded me over the bowl of his pipe. “Boucicault?” he asked.

“Pardon?”

“That line you just quoted. I thought I recognized it from one of Mr. Boucicault’s melodramas.”

I flushed. “No,” I said. “It was my own.”

“Was it? How remarkably vivid.” He turned to young Henry Quinn, who was awaiting his instructions in the wings. “Quinn,” he called, “might I trouble you to run and fetch Mr. Allerford? I have a question or two I would like to put to him.”