# The Treasure Chamber

Extracted from Pall Mall magazine, v.24 1901, pp. 377-389. Accompanying illustrations by Frank Craig omitted.
THE TREASURE CHAMBER.
BY H. B. MARRIOTT WATSON.
SIR EDWARD HEYWOOD'S house-party included some notable people-Sir Edward—grey, stout, and widowed—was famous for a good cellar, an excellent cook, and a great collection of jewels. Two of these qualifications, together with his wide acquaintance and his own amiable properties, enabled him to keep his house-parties choice and interesting. For example, on this fine week of spring he entertained an ex-Cabinet Minister, a celebrated actor, several people of title, and Lord Francis Charmian, in addition to one or two handsome young women. Lord Francis, as a matter of fact, drifted to Lowbottom not because of cook or wine or jewels, but merely because Town had grown very dull, and the weather abroad was reported to be abominable. Pretty women were amusing, but pretty women at Lowbottom were usually too much of one type. Yet in the first hour of his visit he thought he detected possibilities. It was Miss Rayne who provoked him to curiosity, and upon Miss Rayne, he concentrated his attentions. She had come with her aunt, the well-known Lady Quilton, an amiable, smiling person, of impoverished means, beautiful manners, and no intellect.
It was a bright and green spring afternoon when Charmian reached Lowbottom, and not ten minutes later he was on the bowling-green, watching the ladies at play, and chattering to some friends. The ex-Minister, Lord Howsham, who distrusted him, eyed him gloomily through his eyeglass, and made heavy remarks on the condition of the country; and one or two dowagers made arch appeals to him as an umpire. At a little distance, through the avenues of box and waving under the zephyrs, as it seemed, of the flower garden, grew a great green-gold daffodil. It drew Lord Francis, and he was quickly across the sward and picking his way at his customary pace towards it.
"You, Miss Rayne!" he cried in surprise, and offered his hand in delight. "I had never hoped, never dared to wonder. I took you for a product of the garden, the Queen of all spring-blowing bulbs." He smiled in a pleasant way, and cocked his eyes admiringly at the spreading hat with its green and yellow, then at the long, swaying, grey-green raiment.
Miss Rayne was charged abruptly with a slight colour. "Did you notice that? I—I was afraid it was too striking," she said; "but I had an idea, and—and——"
"Striking!" echoed Charmian,—"of course it's striking. Most women seem to want to dress so as to appear like some one else. You, my dear Miss Rayne, I am glad to see, dress like yourself and to suit yourself—and me, if you will permit the association."
Miss Rayne glanced at him doubtfully, as if not quite certain of his meaning. She was tall and English-fair, was five-and-twenty, had quiet, capable eyes, and a carriage which was individual and graceful at once. Moreover, she was amazingly handsome.
"You're here. Lord Francis——" she began, with an intonation of inquiry.
"My dear lady, I was going to-morrow; but now I stay. At least—forgive me, how long are you?"
"Oh, I'm with my aunt," explained Miss Rayne, again suffusing. "I suppose we shall stay the week."
"So shall I——so shall I," breathed Charmian eagerly.
The girl smiled with more composure. "Do you know, Lord Francis," she said, speaking rather primly, "do you know that I think you're rather rude, sometimes?"
"Not to you," he assured her—"never to you. I may be to others, the stupid unlovely others of the world … not to you."
"This elaboration of compliment," pursued Miss Rayne, unheeding, "and all these audacious overtures, have the effect of rudeness at times."
Lord Francis was exceedingly quick at a point. He abandoned his defences, surrendered the outworks, and smilingly came to terms.
"It is perfectly true, Miss Rayne," he confessed; "but do you know, the world is so utterly full of silly people that one gets into a habit. You don't suppose I like the inanities of conventional conversation, or the insincerities of social intercourse."
"Well, but conventional——" protested Miss Rayne, who would not have so classified her companion's conversation.
"I dislike it as much as you do, and am glad we can dispense with it," declared Lord Francis with emphasis; from which it was evident that his negotiations were only a trick, and that he had merely altered the style of his operations.
Some suspicions of him still smouldered in Miss Rayne's mind. But for him the episode was closed; he looked about the beds, praised some flowers, abused others, and scattered information about the guests.
"The Right Honourable is here, I perceive. You know him? He will make his way to you after dinner, and talk of eyes raining influence. It is his pet phrase with women just now. His eyes rained influence on me—and I fled. I may tell you in confidence, Miss Rayne, since we have done with silly, insincere compliments, that I came here not to talk to you, but to escape him."
"Oh!" said Miss Rayne weakly; adding (since silence might be open to misinterpretation), "I suppose he is dull."
"Dull!" cried Charmian. "He's as dull—why, he's as dull as … as Mrs. Battersby is beautiful."
Miss Rayne's glance went down the walk to where the lady, thus precipitately hurried into the conversation, was moving with a companion.
"Yes … she is handsome, isn't she?" she acquiesced.
"Handsome!" echoed Charmian, with a scornful laugh. "I don't quite know the precise value of words. But handsome is not quite the word I should use in describing Mrs. Battersby."
"No! Of course, she's very handsome," agreed Miss Rayne hastily.
"Handsome!" repeated he, frowning. "It's handsome I demur to. There is a difference, you must remember, between handsome and beautiful. One is a comparative only. There are many people who are handsome, even here," he added, with a reflective and critical look at Miss Rayne; "but Mrs. Battersby surely is more than that."
"Oh, certainly," said Miss Rayne, shortly. "She's a very beautiful woman," and began to walk with decision towards the group of players. Lord Francis followed, lightly humming an air under his breath.
"Is that from the music-halls?" asked Miss Rayne scornfully.
"I beg your pardon: do you object?" he asked airily.—"No, it's only the nearest approach I can get to La Donna Immobile. I'm aware it's some distance off."
Miss Rayne, lifting her fine head, frowned coldly at the landscape, and her magnificent figure moved majestically away. But Charmian was not discouraged. Eleanor Rayne, whom he had always admired, interested him by reason of her character as well as her looks. He would have found amusement in the dullest company somehow; but he would find more than amusement here. He pitted himself in conflict against that beautiful woman, with her large ways and grave independence; and he rejoiced in anticipations of the battle. It might go against him (though he thought not), but it would be ravishing and engrossing … and … and he had no idea whither it would lead. There, of course, lay the delight.
After dinner the Right Honourable, according to Charmian's prediction, pursued the beauty with elaborate civilities. His courtly compliments were heavy-handed, "gross, and thick-cut, and sodden," said Lord Francis to some one. He broached the subject to Miss Rayne, also, when the chance fell.
"Don't let that fellow get hold of you," he adjured earnestly. "He'll only bore you with fulsome compliments"; and to Miss Rayne's haughty stare—"I know how you hate them."
He was admirably humble and unobtrusive, but Eleanor Rayne more than once found herself wishing that she had not made any comment regarding compliments. For it was annoying to have this amiable young man, charming and witty as he was, assuming that they had some secret understanding together. He would elevate his eyebrows at a remark by this person or that, and look to her for sympathy, as if, indeed, he were sure of it, and almost demanded it as a right. Then it was irksome, also, to feel that he thought himself entitled to speak with great frankness.
"My dear Miss Rayne," said he, it's a pleasure to talk to you. One feels that one needn't adopt those silly artifices which are the common property of society. It's a comfort and a privilege to be natural, and to speak as human being to human being."
No young woman has a highly developed sense of humour, and Eleanor Rayne scrutinised carefully his earnest face.
"Yes," she agreed feebly.
"Now, if I were you," said Lord Francis cheerfully, and confidentially, "I wouldn't give too much encouragement to Sir Percy."
Miss Rayne's face hardened. "Indeed!" she said coldly.
"Yes," pursued Lord Francis; "you see, although you are not …. although, of course, there is the Venus of Milo and the Aphrodite of Praxiteles, and so forth, still you are certainly an attractive woman——"
"It is good of you to say so," said Miss Rayne, with restrained fury, and crimson of cheek.
"Not at all," said Charmian airily. "It's certainly a great privilege to be able to speak the truth. And the fact is, if poor Sir Percy should be misled by your graciousness——"
But Miss Rayne was already three paces away, and the young man was left to gaze after her thoughtfully. Her carriage was beautiful; like the Queen of Love, her dignity lay naked in her gait and bearing.
But that was the end of this unwelcome intimacy for two days—until, indeed, Sir Edward Heywood consented to exhibit the treasures of his house. It was after dinner, over very stimulating wine, that their host agreed to open his museum. In fact, it was his own proposal; and he beamed the news on the ladies a little later. His red face shining, and his slow voice rolling with satisfaction, he made a little speech, in which he averred that it had been represented to him that it was the general desire of the party to inspect his collection of jewels, and if he were correct in supposing so, he would at once proceed to bare those treasures to an appreciative company. He added, with mock humility, and as if in apology for his tardiness, that he had not realised that any one would be interested in a mere collection of curious stones. It was at this point that Lord Francis's eye met Miss Rayne's, and both twinkled. The enormous importance of Sir Edward's manner seemed to tickle both of them. Nothing would suit the owner of the collection but that the jewels must be exhibited forthwith, and the company, in a gentle state of excitement, trooped down the gallery into the jewel-room. Swinging lamps were lit, and illumined the large chamber brightly. The walls were filled with wooden cupboards or cases, and these were screened by steel curtains, which acted under a patent lock and key, and now rolled away and offered to the interested view of the company rows of shelves, on which sparkled the curios of the connoisseur. The jewels drew the eyes of the women, and notably one,—"A celebrated ruby once in possession of the King of Burmah," explained the complacent voice of Sir Edward. It was an admirable collection, but it bored Lord Francis, who was next to Miss Rayne when the screen rolled back into its place. When she turned round and saw him, her eyes sparkled and her breath sounded audible between her lips.
"Wasn't it lovely?" she cried.
Charmian admitted it, and wondered, as so many men have wondered since the twilight of unconscious Time, why stones should have this peculiar effect on women. The problem remains a problem still—insoluble. The throng ebbed out of the museum and left them.
"That ruby," said Lord Francis, "must be worth at least five thousand pounds."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Lady Quilton, who had remained with her niece. "Dear me! How wonderful! Five thousand pounds! "
"If it were only mine!" said Lord Francis earnestly.
Lady Quilton looked at him inquiringly, so did Miss Rayne.
"If it were only mine!" sighed the latter with a smile.
"What would you do with it?" asked Charmian.
"I? Oh, I—I'm sure I don't know," said Eleanor in confusion. "I wouldn't keep it shut up—that's all."
"Nor would I," said Lord Francis softly, and meditatively. "I'd sell it, and pay some of my debts."
"I think we must go now, Eleanor dear," suggested Lady Quilton hastily, eyeing this shameless young man. "It will seem odd our staying here."
Eleanor seemed in no mood to obey, but indeed Lady Quilton perhaps was right, for there was a servant stolidly waiting to put out the lamps. Almost he might be said to be watching them, as Charmian pleasantly suggested.
"Indeed, I trust not," exclaimed Lady Quilton, reddening. "I'm sure Sir Edward wouldn't——"
"You never know these collectors," said Charmian gloriously. "They're not only suspicious of every one else, but they're not even honest themselves. That's why they give no one credit for honesty. I shouldn't be surprised … well, I don't want to say anything, Lady Quilton, but I should like to know the real history of some of these." He waved a hand at the wall.
"Good heavens, Lord Francis! you don't surely insinuate——" began Lady Quilton in alarm.
"I insinuate nothing, my dear lady," said Charmian promptly; "but I should like to know. How, for example, did that ruby get here?"
He looked significantly from one to the other, and a smile flickered in Miss Rayne's face. But Lady Quilton was disturbed and agitated by these dark possibilities, as she confessed later to her niece.
"You don't really believe that there's anything in Lord Francis's hint, dear?" she asked. "Do you think Sir Edward could have got the ruby dishonestly?"
"I'm sure I don't know," answered Miss Rayne, with a merry little laugh. "It really doesn't matter, does it?"
Lady Quilton seemed to think it did, "because it wouldn't belong to him, you see, if he stole it," she explained gravely.
It was in the dusk of the next evening that Charmian had occasion to pass the door of the museum. It was slightly ajar, but he would have passed by if his eyes had not lighted on a figure which was decipherable even in the gloom. Before the rolling screen which covered the curios stood Miss Rayne. He paused, and would have entered, but something in her aspect forbade, and he went on, whistling gently. Within three minutes of his departure Miss Rayne appeared in the corridor, and waited in her turn. A second form separated itself from the twilight soon afterwards and emerged.
"Is that you, auntie?" asked Miss Rayne.
Lady Quilton started, and gave a tiny cry.
"My dear, how you frightened me! Yes—I—it is me."
Miss Rayne was silent, and they went down the corridor together.
"It's very dark," said Lady Quilton awkwardly, and even apologetically.
Eleanor Rayne looked at her aunt, when they were in the region of lights, and noted the discomposure of her face. She experienced a feeling of wonder—even a momentary fear.
In their passage to the western gardens next morning Lord Francis and Miss Rayne went through the treasure chamber. The former pulled up before the case.
"How about that ruby?" he asked facetiously. It seemed to him that a slight colour flowed into her face. "Now's our time," he went on, jocularly grave, and seizing the steel screen in one hand pulled at it. The curtain rose noiselessly and vanished into the oak.
"Good Lord!" cried Lord Francis; and Miss Rayne's face had lost its change of colour. He looked at her in mock distress. "Where are we now?" he said. "Fate is surely with us!" He leaned over the drawers and uttered an exclamation. "By Jove! the ruby's gone!"
Eleanor Rayne had gone slowly pale, and her lips were tremulous as she met his look.
"Could … No one could have opened it, could they?" she asked appealingly.
"Dear Miss Rayne, it's open," he said seriously for the first time; and then, these facts coming home to his whimsical brain, he laughed. "Good gracious! What are we to do? We can't say we went to steal and found it gone; and we can't … Hang it, if I am to be a burglar, I shall let them find it out for themselves."
Miss Rayne, still pale, regarded him helplessly. "Won't—won't you tell?" she stammered.
"Not I!" said Charmian gaily. "We can't afford to rest under suspicion, you see, Miss Rayne. Our characters won't stand it. My advice to you is to let the law do its own dirty work, and don't put your neck in a halter."
Miss Rayne did not respond to this, but showed a desire to get away. Charmian rolled back the screen, which caught with a click. "As a matter of fact, Heywood did not shut it down far enough to catch," he explained. "But we will let him find out. I've no sympathy with these collectors."
Sir Edward did find out, as Lord Francis was witness; for, entering the library in the afternoon, Charmian came upon his host frowning over his papers.
"What's the matter, Sir Edward?" said he.
"Well … it's rather a serious matter," explained Sir Edward, with a troubled face. "The fact is, Charmian, my big ruby's gone."
"Gone!" echoed Charmian.
"Stolen," nodded the collector.
"Oh, but stolen. Come now!" protested Charmian.
"I repeat it—stolen?" said the collector placidly enough, but with emphasis. "You don't know what these people will do to secure a first-rate specimen like that. They're all a pack of thieves."
"Well, but who?" began Charmian.
Sir Edward's broad countenance was lit up with intelligence, and he looked about the room for eavesdroppers. "Some one in the house, my dear Charmian."
"In the house!"
"Yes. I'd swear to it. I've my suspicions; but of course I won't take any steps. Only I should like to find out … because I wouldn't invite him again, you know."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Lord Francis, remembering a happy episode in his career, "I'll run him to earth for you."
"You!" said Sir Edward doubtfully.
"Yes; you can't employ a detective, and I'm your man. I've had some experience of this sort before."
"Really!" said Sir Edward, still doubtfully; and added, with a sigh, "All right—if you can. I should like to know. It's not a nice thing to happen," from which mild condemnation Charmian drew inferences as to the scale of morals affected by collectors. But he was very eager in his new rôle and naturally sought Miss Rayne as what he called "the associate and partner of my guilt."
Miss Rayne heard him out, and was silent a little; then, without turning her glance to him, she asked: "And are you really going to try and discover the thief?"
"Of course," he answered. "Don't you see, my professional reputation is at stake? Besides, it will draw off suspicion from you and me."
But Miss Rayne looked serious and pallid, and replied absently to his remarks.
"My own idea," said he, sitting comfortably down on the garden seat—"my own idea is that it's Lord Howsham."
She started. "You mean the ex-minister of——"
"Yes, the Right Honourable."
"But," began Miss Rayne, "it isn't possible; it couldn't … it …"
"My dear lady, some one has done it, so it's possible," he replied; and Miss Rayne was silent. He persuaded her to visit the spot with him before dinner, and though she agreed, it was with reluctance.
"I don't think it's quite worthy of you to play detective," she said presently, as if with an effort.
"Ah," said he, shaking his head, "but then that's because you have such a high ideal of me, Miss Rayne. It's mistaken—it's mistaken."
Eleanor hit her lip. "It might be some unfortunate person who was tempted out of poverty … or … some other reason, and who will be ruined."
"Yes, Heywood won't ask him again," assented Charmian.
An exclamation of annoyance escaped her, and a chain about her wrist snapped, under her fretting fingers, but dropped unheeded by her to the floor in her anger at his flippancy. She left him.
It was not until two in the morning of that mild spring weather that Charmian, having smoked his last cigarette, and read his last chapter, put out his light, and turned over to sleep. As he did so, he thought he heard the soft sound of feet go along the corridor, and he listened. Something lured him out of bed. He thrust on his dressing-gown, and, opening the door, looked forth. The gallery rambled away into utter darkness; but grey now, and vanishing against that distant blackness, went a figure he recognised. Without the hesitation of two seconds, he stepped out and followed.
Silence had reigned long at Lowbottom, and the moon was out in the west, floating aslant of the huge pile. The shafts struck through the long windows in the western gallery, and lighted both Miss Rayne and her follower on their way. The tide of brightness flowed over the balustrade, and down the staircase into the corridor beneath. They passed, the one unconscious, and the other, now for the first time beginning to have qualms of conscience, through a sequence of rooms to the threshold of the treasure chamber. In his new mood of doubt, Charmian did not recognise this. He had for some time realised that he was engaged in a piece of meanness, which he had not understood at the time or anticipated. Suddenly, as Miss Rayne passed into the museum, the light of the moon went out, as the satellite of the earth plunged under a bank of clouds. Heavy darkness prevailed.
Charmian went through the doorway on his impulse. In his body something was tingling, which dominated his sense of shame. The window rattled gently under his stretched arm, and from somewhere in the surrounding darkness issued a small cry. He stood quiet as a statue, though his first instinct had been to answer the cry with reassuring words. Had she walked as a ghost in her sleep, and was she now awake and terrified in the night? Yet he was held dumb by that sentiment of shame which had been growing in him. He would not call her by name and reveal himself, but would creep softly away, and leave her to suppose she had heard some mouse racing in the wainscot. He drew stealthily back into the doorway, without the slightest noise, rested there an instant to listen for news of her, and the next, moment felt a figure at his side. Involuntarily he stretched out his arms, and in that immediate confusion of time and act, lips met lips or ever Lord Francis was aware. There was a cry, loud and frightened now; and the capricious moon, drifting clear of her banks for a second, shone wan upon the man and the woman. Miss Rayne fell back, and out of the renewed darkness came her voice, between terror, shame, and fury.
"Lord Francis!"
"I—I—beg your pardon. It was an accident," he stammered. "I happened to be in the doorway, and——"
"How dared you! oh, how dared you!" The voice was close on tears.
"I—I really humbly beg your pardon," said Charmian. "It was one of those accidents which——"
"It was not an accident," said Miss Rayne angrily; "it was an insult—deliberate and intentional."
"I—I thought it was one of the housemaids," said Charmian weakly.
Fury now prevailed over the other emotions in Miss Rayne's bosom. "That is well. Insult me still further," she cried scornfully.
"But," began Charmian, now resuming control of himself,—"but if I didn't know it was you, I couldn't be insulting you," he protested.
"Will you kindly stand aside, that I may pass?" demanded Miss Rayne, from the safety of her darkness.
"Certainly," said Lord Francis, amiably, "if you will only tell me which side you are."
He moved away and waited, and was aware that some softly moving feet went by; a flowing robe touched him.
"I beg your pardon," said he: "that wasn't me. I kept quite still."
"Would you be good enough to direct me to the door?" came in haughty yet embarrassed tones from Miss Rayne.
Charmian hastened forward, but fell over a chair. He blundered about, and when his voice sounded next it came from far away. "I'm afraid I've got somewhat mixed up," he said cheerfully; "but never mind—I've got some matches in my pocket, I know."
"Indeed you mustn't!" cried Miss Rayne, in agitation. "You mustn't light one."
"Oh," said Lord Francis feebly, "you mean——?"
"It doesn't matter what I mean," said Miss Rayne's voice hastily.
Lord Francis was silent, and then, after consideration: "It's not merely a question of finding a way out of this room," he said,—"that can be managed with a little skill. But there's afterwards, you know. This house is a regular trap for passages. I suppose you know your way about in it?" he asked hopefully.
"N—no, I don*t think so—not in the dark," said Miss Rayne despondently.
"It's a regular death-trap in the dark," said Lord Francis, with emphasis. "Why, even in the daylight I nearly fell down a steep stairway the other day." He could have sworn that she shuddered in the darkness. "I—I think I'd better strike a light," he ventured.
"You will do nothing of the sort," said Miss Rayne promptly.
"Of course we can wait till the light comes," said Charmian, with resignation. "It's not a cold night, you see; and I hope you're sufficiently——"
Miss Rayne interrupted him with an exclamation of impatience.
"I'll tell you what," said Charmian brightly: "I have an idea. I will strike a light and walk in front."
Miss Rayne hesitated before replying, and then her words were bitterly resigned. "Good heavens, what objects we should look!"
But simultaneously the moon struck out of her dolorous clouds and flooded the chamber with glory. Miss Rayne uttered a cry and fled, snow-white and magnificent in the golden glamour. It was only when he had regained his room that Lord Francis realised that the scene of this thrilling adventure had been Sir Edward's treasure chamber. He remained awake, wondering, and was down very late next morning to breakfast.
The party had disappeared, and Miss Rayne with the rest. He spent an hour in further consideration, turning his new thoughts over in the light of day. They were of two kinds, the one eminently charming, and the other amazing and confounding in its possibilities. It was just before lunch that he met Sir Edward, who beckoned him aside.
"I'm much troubled about that ruby, Charmian," he said. "You're the only person who knows. I've decided, after all, to have a detective in, and he's coming to-night. You see," he spoke apologetically, "I don't know it was a guest, and, after all, by Jove, if it was, I think I ought to know who."
Charmian was forced to agree with him reluctantly, and ate his meal in bad spirits. Shortly afterwards he forced his way into Miss Rayne's presence. She was with Mrs. Battersby, the handsome, and stared at him coldly—almost, indeed, as if she had never seen him before. His aspect was submissive, and his expression serious; and for these reasons, and no other, Miss Rayne allowed him to separate her from her companion. He told her his news, and saw Miss Rayne start.
"I really don't mind if she is a thief," he said to himself. "She's stolen a good deal more than jewels from—many men," he finished his thought.
Miss Rayne thanked him, but in icy terms failed to understand why the information was brought to her.
"Oh!" said Charmian, taken aback. "I thought you would be interested to know that it's taken out of my hands."
Eleanor Rayne looked at him swiftly. Was it possible that he suspected? "Indeed!" she said, still bravely cold, and turned away.
She went straight to Lady Quilton. "Aunt," she said, with resolution, "I want you to tell me, please, what you were doing that evening when I met you coming out of the museum."
Lady Quilton coloured. "What do you mean, my dear? What evening?" she said feebly.
"You remember quite well, aunt," insisted Eleanor impatiently.
"You needn't fly out at me, Eleanor," said the old lady, with some accession of dignity. "I went to have another look at the jewels, that's all."
"Ah!" said Miss Rayne.
"You see, I found the shutter was unlocked," pursued Lady Quilton, now garrulous; "but when I looked, the ruby was gone! I couldn't see it anywhere," she added, lowering her voice mysteriously.
"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Rayne, and made no more relevant answer. A little later she sought an interview with Sir Edward, who was the spirit of lumbering graciousness, and beamed, moreover, as at the receipt of good news.
My dear Miss Rayne, how good of you to lighten my dulness! My deadly papers——" He indicated a pile of letters and documents.
"Sir Edward, I understand you have lost a ruby in your collection," she began, almost unceremoniously.
"Well," began Sir Edward, "it is true that——"
"And you are thinking of having a detective here to discover the thief?" she asked, interrupting him.
"My dear Miss Rayne, I do not understand how you know; but it's a fact that a detective is on his way here," said Sir Edward, once again beaming, as if he found pleasure in a jest. "But I must ask you to keep the fact a private——"
"Sir Edward, let me beg of you not to have him," broke in the girl.
Sir Edward stared. "I don't think I understand," he said. Miss Rayne's beautiful face glowed, and she spoke fast. "I have more than a suspicion who the—the person is," she said, "and I think I can promise the jewel shall be restored. But it will be terrible if the—the crime is brought home to some one, who may be more sinned against—I mean may not be so guilty as—they seem."
Sir Edward's stare was harder and his bewilderment was broader on his face than ever. Then a grin dawned on his features, and he opened his mouth to speak. But ere he could reply, the door of the library was thrown open, and Lord Francis entered abruptly. As he did so Miss Rayne instinctively retreated, so that she was hidden by a bay of the room. Lord Francis was pale with reflection.
"Sir Edward, I particularly want to speak with you," he began at once.
"You want——" said Sir Edward, unable to follow these abrupt changes.
"You have sent for that detective?" said Lord Francis quickly. "Well, he won't be needed. I took the ruby."
Sir Edward gasped, rubbed his eyeglasses, and then broke out laughing.
"You took it!" he said; and from the bay a wondering face looked forth.
"Yes, I took it. Now strike me off your list, or do what you will. Here's the thief in propriâ personâ."
Sir Edward rolled back in his chair as if he had not heard so excellent a joke for years.
"I fail to see the ludicrous character of the scene when a man confesses to a crime," said Lord Francis tartly.
Sir Edward rubbed the moisture from his glasses. "Quite so, quite so," he said. "Forgive me. Then it must be for you that this young lady is pleading."
At his words Charmian turned sharply, and saw Miss Rayne. Distress and amazement and doubt were large upon her face. He stood confused.
"I have had another confession, of a sort," said Sir Edward.
"You don't mean to say that you believe Miss Rayne, even if she says she——" began Lord Francis hotly.
"No, It's not her," said Sir Edward ungrammatically. "It's you she was pleading for."
"No," said Miss Rayne with a gulp.
"Indeed, then, I don't know what the mischief it all means," declared the old gentleman hopelessly; "more especially as the ruby wasn't stolen after all, but was found behind the drawer, where it had fallen down, this very afternoon."
Lord Francis stared. "Found!" he said.
"Found, my dear Charmian," said Sir Edward; and added, somewhat testily, "and if this is an elaborate joke, I think it's about time it came to an end, for I don't see much point in it."
"Of course it's a joke," said Charmian cheerfully; "but now I come to think of it, I don't see much point in it either. Do you, Miss Rayne?"
"N—no," said Miss Rayne, weakly staring at him.
They walked along the gallery in silence.
"Would you mind telling me why you accused yourself?" asked Miss Rayne at last.
"Would you mind telling me why you accused some one else?" he asked in turn.
Eleanor pondered. "No, I can't do that," she said, thinking of Lady Quilton and certain winter sales. "You seemed to think that I had confessed," she added thoughtfully.
"Did I?" said Charmian lightly, "How stupid of me!"
"Why did you think that?" she persisted.
"It was a wild joke," he said desperately.
She turned on him. "How could you have dared to think I did it!"
"My dear Miss Rayne," he floundered, "I—I don't—I'm not very particular about those things."
"It was that visit to the museum in the night," she went on, glowing handsome with her just wrath. "How you could have dared! But if you must have an explanation," she went on scornfully, and held up a hand, "here it is. I had dropped my locket there."
"I—1 knew it—of course," he stumbled in his humiliation.
So much like a crushed and routed foe did he look that even Miss Rayne relented. She came back to her first question.
"And what on earth made you make up that silly story about yourself?"
His glance met hers half way, whimsical, beseeching, and not a little tender. "You would never understand," he said low.
Miss Rayne started when they had paused at the entrance to the picture gallery. "Oh," she said, very warm and red, and "I never thought …." and that was all. The rise and fall of her bosom quickened, but the colour now faded, leaving her but delicately charged with pink. "You should never have done such a thing, even if you had thought …." she began, tremulously playful.
But Charmian fastened his bright eyes on her. "You don't understand," he said.
Her eyes dropped. He laid a hand very gently on her arm, and there it rested.
"Perhaps I do," she murmured faintly.
"Then," said he softy, "I anticipated—that—only by——"
Miss Rayne's glance dropped again,
"Let us go and look at the pictures," said Lord Francis with enthusiasm.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse