Now, no one had seen the necklace for a year,
and then only her husband, their servants, and two or three
old friends. No outsider could have known of its existence.
There was no evidence of the house or bureau having been
disturbed.
A New York detective agency was at once retained, which sent
one of its best men to the scene of the crime. He examined
the servants, heard the story, and reported that it must have
been an inside job--that there was no possibility of anything
else. But there was nothing to implicate any one of the
servants, and there seemed no hope of getting the necklace
back. Two or three days later the husband turned up at the
agency's office in New York, and after beating about the bush
for a while, remarked:
"I want to tell you something. You have got this job wrong.
There's one fact your man didn't understand. The truth is
that I'm a pretty easy going sort, and every six months or so
I take all the men and girls employed around my house down to
Coney Island and give 'em a rip-roaring time.
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