# The Chinese Jewel/Chapter 14

pp. 45–47.

### CHAPTER XIV. READJUSTMENTS.

STEELE escorted his prisoner into the house, going with him to the living room. Here, with Reagan under his eye, he telephoned to the county sheriff, saying simply and without giving his own name or Reagan's:
“A murder has just been committed at Blake's farm. I am holding the murderer for you to come and get.”
He hung up before the sleepy sheriff could ask questions. By now not only had Marvella and Carrington been drawn to the room after him, but Colonel Harwood, hastily dressed and nervous-eyed, had arrived, and Alice Blake, with a dressing gown thrown about her, came hurrying in.
Carrington, clutching at his precious gems, stared in utter bewilderment, first at Reagan, next at Steele, and finally at Marvella.
“Reagan,” Steele said, “Kwang-kung's men got Tony Waldron. Did you know that?”
“I know,” Reagan said crisply.
“When the sheriff comes I'll make it my business to look Waldron up. If we can tie anything on him for this last job of yours, be sure we will do so. But I rather fancy he will go free again{{bar|2}”
“Yes,” said Reagan. His voice was cold and expressionless. “Poor old Tony will go free, or, rather, he has gone to his big freedom already. They got him, Billy. That's why——”
He broke off abruptly, it being Reagan's way to guard his tongue.
“That's why you did for Kwang-kung?” Steele finished for him.
“Who said I did for Kwang-kung? You're not expecting me to become fool enough to talk before my lawyer comes, are you? But I'll tell you one thing: Tony Waldron lies dead out there in the wood. Somebody had knifed him. If you will compare the wound with that on your Chinese friend, I think you'll come to the conclusion that the same blade that finished poor old Tony let the life out of the man responsible for his death. Poetic justice, eh, dilly?”
That was as close as Reagan was minded to come to making any admission. But Steele understood; he knew that Reagan had drawn out from the body of his henchman the knife that had killed him, and then, with that same knife, had avenged him on Kwang-kung.
Marvella went toward Alice.
“Miss Blake,” she said imperatively, “you will understand that your house has become no pleasant place to sleep in. Would it be asking too much to suggest that you let your car take me to the railroad?”
Alice looked questioningly toward Steele. And Carrington, his perplexity half dazing him, demanded:
“For Heaven's sake, what is the meaning of all this? Why do you look like that, Alice? It's as though everybody understood what was up except me. What has Marvella to do with this? Why should she go at this time of night? And, if she wants to go, why shouldn't she?”
“Maybe Mr. Steele will answer your questions, Stephen,” answered Alice.
“Mr. Steele? Who the devil is this Mr. Steele? What has he got to say about it?”
“Mr. Steele is—is a friend of mine whom I asked to come here with us in order to save you a great deal.”
“I think,” Steele said, “that there is no reason why Marvella should not go before long. She had best remain, however, until the sheriff comes. She may be called as a witness,”
Marvella shrank back.
“I saw nothing!” she cried.
Again Carrington was mystified.
“You saw what I saw,” he reminded her. “You called me. You saw Reagan coming out of my window with my jewel cases. You saw——”
“I saw nothing,” she repeated sullenly.
“Let her go,” said Colonel Harwood uneasily. It was the first time he had spoken. “She is right; this is no place of rest for a nervous, high-strung woman. Let her go.”
“So you think it's a case of letting me go?” Marvella's flashing eyes clashed with Steele's like daggers. “I am going! Going if I have to walk. There is no one here to stop me.”
She ran across the room to Carrington, snatching at the leather case in his hands.
“Give me what is mine,” she cried hotly. “I will go.”
“Give it to her,” Steele said. “Take the Beauty of Burma and go, Mrs. Nevil.”
She snatched it, flung down the cases, and turned to the door.
“Only remember this,” Steele's voice followed her, “Kwang-kung is dead. Tony Waldron is dead because he seemed to interfere with the Chinaman's plans. There are two of Kwang-kung's people left to carry on. I have an idea that if you try to get away with Kwang-kung's ruby to-night——” He left the rest to Marvella's imaginings. And plainly, from the look on her face, she understood, and her vision chilled her heart.
An hour later the sheriff and his deputy arrived. Steele told briefly what had happened and his own part in the matter in the presence of the others, Marvella had remained, and both she and Colonel Harwood and also Mrs. Harwood, who had come down by now, listened intently. Steele made no mention of them, simply telling Reagan's part and saying that Waldron, now dead, was Reagan's right-hand man. But he looked at both Marvella and Colonel Harwood meaningly. And they understood even while marveling that he had not in any way implicated them.
They were to understand soon, however. While the sheriff and his deputy, guarding Reagan, were conferring in one room, Steele summoned the others to another.
“Harwood,” he said sternly, “you know best if you could be drawn into a rather ugly mess. I, for my part, am not anxious to drag you in. A word now from you, and, so far as I am concerned, you may go to the devil. Do you care to save your villainous hide by speaking that word?”
Harwood stared and frowned, looked ready to bluster, and then rather weakly demanded:
“What word?”
“Tell young Carrington here the sort of friend you have been to him for his future good. Tell him that you and Reagan and Marvella planned not only to steal his jewels, but Heaven knows how much of his wealth besides.”
“How dare you——” blustered Harwood. Steele shrugged.
“Suit yourself, Harwood. But better think a moment. I happen to know a good deal of this matter. I give you my word that I'll lose interest if you inform Carrington what a fool you were playing him for. And I solemnly give you my word, too, that if you don't tell him, you and Marvella, I'll have both of you dragged into this so that that much and a lot more will come out. It's up to you.”
Colonel Harwood locked his lips stubbornly. Mrs. Harwood was twisting her cold, bony fingers.
“I think, Julius,” she said bleakly, “that this young gentleman means what he says. You have been rather a fool.”
“Well, then,” Harwood said, looking at no one and speaking jerkily, “I'll say just this: I—I introduced Reagan to Carrington because—because Reagan said that—that somehow it would be worth my while.”
Stephen looked at him in amazement. Then he turned about to Marvella.
“Not your' he cried. “Not you, too?”
Marvella laughed at him.
“You are a nice little boy,” she said cruelly, “but you are not very wise.”
And Steele was content with the look dawning on Carrington's face.
Hastily the Harwoods withdrew. Marvella went upstairs. Carrington made a pitiful attempt to smile at Steele.
“I've been a duffer, I guess,” he said ruefully, “just a duffer. But one trusts his friends and—and Marvella——”
He choked up. Steele laid a kindly hand on the boy's shoulder.
“Marvella is an old one at the game,” he said gently. “It's too bad, Carrington. But how you could let one like her draw you away from——”
Stephen looked at him curiously.
“From whom? Oh, Alice, you mean?” He shook his head. “There was nothing between us, although everybody thought so. She told me that a month ago.”
He did not see the look in Steele's eyes. But he did mark that Steele seemed anxious to go. And a moment later he saw Steele and Alice standing together on the porch.
The next morning it was a rare pleasure for Billy Steele to talk over the long-distance line with Ferguson, his old chief, in New York. Already the city papers were full of the story; they had made much of the rivalry between Steele and Reagan; they told eloquently and at length of Steele's victory over a man who had nearly ruined him. Ferguson now retracted and explained and apologized. In the end pleaded:
“Come back to us, Billy. We can't get along without you. You go up to assistant manager right off the bat. What's the word, Billy?”
Alice was in the room while Steele answered the telephone.
“Sorry I can't stop to talk business now, Mr. Ferguson. I have a very important engagement.” And hanging up without more ado, he turned to Alice and said gayly: “You promised me a long walk in the woods. You haven't forgotten, have you?”
Alice had not forgotten.