I had my answer in the blush of guilt that even rouge and powder could not conceal.

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“It was you, then?”

“Yes⁠—I⁠—you see⁠—there were one or two pieces of old silver⁠—very interesting. I had been reading up the subject and there was an illustration of quite a small piece which had fetched an immense sum at Christie’s. It looked to be just the same as the one in the silver table. I thought I would take it up to London with me when I went⁠—and⁠—and have it valued. Then if it really was a valuable piece, just think what a charming surprise it would have been for Roger?”

I refrained from comments, accepting Mrs. Ackroyd’s story on its merits. I even forbore to ask her why it was necessary to abstract what she wanted in such a surreptitious manner.