The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1910-08-12

when everybody was there-and they
haven't the faintest clew."
But how?" For moment the pre-
posterous fact left Clara too quick to
be calm.
Again Flora's eloquent hands. "That
is it! 1t was in a case like all the
other jewels. Harry saw it"-she
glanced at the paper-"as late as four
O'Clock. When he came back with
Judge Butler, half an hour after, it
was gone"
Flora leaned forward on her ell
bows, chin in hands. No two could
have differed more than these two
women in their blondness and their
prettiness and their wonder For
Clara was sharp and pale, with silyery
lights in eyes and hair, and confront
ed the facts with an alert and calcu-
lating observation; but Flora was
tawny, toned from brown to ivory
through all the gamut of gold-hair
color of panther's hide, eyes dark
hazel, glinting through dust-colored
lashes, chin round like a fruit. The
pressure of her fingers accented the
slight uptilt of her brows to elfish-
ness, and her look was retrospective.
She might, instead of wondering on
the outside, have been the very center
of the mystery itself, toying with I'm
thinkable possibilities of revelation.
She looked far over the head of Clara
Britton's annoyance that there should
be no clew.
why, don't you see," she pointed
out, that is just the fun of it? 1t
might be anybody. 1t might be you,
or me, or Ella Butler. Though I would
prefer to think it was some one we
didn't know so wholesome one
strange and fascinating, who will pres
emily go slipping out the Golden Gate
in little junk boat, so that no one
need be embarrassed"
Clara looked back with extraordi-
nary intentness.
"Oh, it's not possible the thing is
stolen. There's some mistake! And
if it were"-her eyes seemed to open
little wider to take in this posi-
bility-"they will have detectives all
around the water front by tonight.
Any one would find it difficult to get
away" she pointed out.
"Of course; l know" Flora MUIR
INJURED. A faint twitch of humor pull
ed her mouth, but the passionate ro-
mantle color was dying out of her
face. How was it that ones romances
could be so cruelty pulled down to
earth? But still she couldn't quite
come down to Clara. "At least" she
sighed, "he has saved me an awful
expense, whoever took it, for l should
have had to have it,"
Mrs. Britton surveyed this state
ment consideringly. WAS it the most
valuable thing in the collection?
Flora hesitated in the face of the
alert question. "I-don't know. But
it was the most remarkable. 1t was a
Chatworth heirloom, the papers say,
and was given to Bessie at the time
of her marriage" The thought of the
death that had so quickly followed
that marriage gave Flora a little
shiver, but no shade of the tragedy
touched Clara. There was nothing
but speculation in Clara's eyes-that,
and little disappointment. "Then
they will put off the auction-if it is
really So" she unused.
But there must be something in it,
Clara. Why, they closed the doors
and searched them-that crowdi It's
ridiculous!"
Clara Britton glanced at the empty
place. "Then that must be what has
kept him."
>"Who? Oh, Harry" 1t took Flora
a moment to remember she had been
expecting Harry She hoped Clara
had not noticed it. Clara always had
too much the assumption that she
was taking him only as the best-look-
ing, best-natured, safest bargain pre-
scented. He will be here" she re-
assured, "but | wish he would hurry
His dinner will be spoiled; and, poor
dear, he likes his dinner so much"
The faint silver sound of the cleo
trio bell, a precipitate double peal,
seemed to uphold this statement. The
women faced each other in a mo-
ment's suspense, a moment of expec-
tation, such as the advance column
may feel at sight of a scout hotfoot
from the field of battle. There were
muflled movements in the hall, then
light, even steps crossing the drawing
room. Those light steps always sug
gested a slight frame, and, as always,
Flora was re-surprised at his bulk as
now it appeared between the parted
curtains, the dull black and sharp
white of his evening clothes topped by
his square, fresh-colored face.
We'll, Flora" he said, 81 know I'm
late" and took the hand she held to
him from where she sat. Her face
danced with pleasure. Yes, he was
magnificent, she thought, as he cross
ed with his light stride to Mrs. Brit
tons chair. He could even stand the
harsh lines and lights of evening
clothes. He dominated their ugly con-
vention with his height, his face so
rudy and fresh under the pale brown