“Damn,” Inspector Newcombe muttered. “That shoots down my theory, then. I don’t think a bank clerk or a music hall entertainer would know how to crack a safe. I wonder if the other two were with him or if he knows where they are. I don’t suppose he’ll squeal on his mates, anyway.” He clapped a hand on the constable’s shoulder. “Come on, then, lad. Let’s get back into town. Sorry for rushing off like this, Albert. I’ll let you know what we find.”

And he strode down the path to his waiting car.

“At least it’s not a murder,” I said shakily, thinking of the polite and charming Mr. Klein, who had told me about the fine pieces he’d just acquired from Paris. Maybe he had also mentioned these fine pieces to the wrong person. But at least he was still alive and unharmed.

“And this one shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Granddad said, staring thoughtfully at the departing car. “There are only a limited number of criminals in an area like this who possess the skills to crack a safe and have the knowledge to take only the best pieces. Your petty thief who needs extra money for Christmas would have smashed the window and grabbed what he could.”

“So you don’t think this crime was related to the strange deaths, do you?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Don’t see how. If the others are murders, then they are the work of a twisted sort of mind. And this is the work of an expert burglar. Probably a known criminal.”

We returned to the cozy sitting room. My mother had appeared, wearing a blue satin robe trimmed with feathers. “Has that horrid little man gone?” she asked. “We’re supposed to be having a quiet and peaceful Christmas and instead we have nasty policemen tramping in and out of the house all the time. You shouldn’t have encouraged him, Daddy.”

“The poor bloke is at his wit’s end, ducks. He wanted my advice.”

“I take it you haven’t told him you were just a humble copper and not the leading light of Scotland Yard?” She curled herself into an armchair. “Oh, hello, Georgie, darling. Come and give your aged mother a kiss.”

I did so, then I handed her the package. “A small Christmas token from me. Not to be opened until tomorrow.”

“Georgie, you shouldn’t. How sweet of you. And now I feel terrible because I wasn’t expecting to see you until the new year, when I was planning to take you on a shopping spree.” She uncurled herself. “But you have to have something. Come upstairs and see what you’d like. I know I’m teeny tiny compared to you, but I have some pretty scarves and hats and things.”

“It’s all right, Mummy, you really don’t need to. . . .”