MY LADY'S - - - DIAMONDS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2516, 4 June 1902, Page 59

MY LADY'S - - - - DIAMONDS.

By ADELINE SERGEANT. CHAPTER IV.— JOAN SAYS GOOiD-BYE.

IR JAMES ROCKINGHAM arrived before long, and was moved almost out of his usual , good humour by the lo&s of las wife's necklace. He explained at some length to Geoffrey the manner in which it had come into his family and the value he attached to it ; and Geoffrey listened patiently, knowing the details perfectly well, but allowing the old man to have his way. Sir James was nearly 20 years older than his wife ; an upright, soldierly-looking man still, with white hair and moustache, but a little inclined to expend all his energy in words.

He assured Geoffrey over and over again that "something must be done, for your own sake, my boy, as well as mine. Why, that necklace was the most valuable heirloom in the family, and I am not inclined to sit down and let it disappear without an effort to lecover it. Now, what would you advise?"

He thought that Geoffrey was looking rather odd ; he seemed pale about the lips, and anxious to avoid meeting his uncle's eye. But Sir James naturally attributed these symptoms to vexation on the young man's part at the loss of the diamonds, j'lid was secretly pleased that his nephew should show so much feeling. .

"The difficulty." said Geoffrey slowly, "lies in the fact that all diamonds are very much alike. If the necklace is broken up and the (-tones taken out of their settings, I don't see how it is possible to recover them."

"Ah. you have forgotten one thing, my boy,"' said the old man. ''The clasp is unique. It is by that clasp that I expect we shall be able to track the necklace. It is a very ancient bit of work — a peacock in tiny emeralds, on a background of brill"ant« — supposed to be Persian in origin. I don't suppose there is anything like it in the Britisli Umpire."

"It ought to be very easily traced, then," said Geoffiey, in a depressed voice. "Well, yes, I should think so. Of course, .'ll the diamond merchants, pawnbrokers, and people of that sort ought to be warned I suppose you know the tucks of the tiade. Geoffiey? You can put the maitei into the hands of the best detective in London, and I don't mind what expense 1 go tn so long a.i the necklace is found.''

Oeofficy paused, as it considering the matter.

'"You want the diamonds?'' he said. "Do you value them moie than the cla-sp, oi the cJasp uioi c than the diamonds, or nuiit you nave the whole thing back before you are satisfied?'

"Why." said Sir James, amazed at the question, "of course I want the whole thing back ! But really, as you ask me. I believe I value the clasp more than the neck^ice itself. The diamonds were fine, and not ea<.y to be replaced. But the clasp, as I said, was unique, and if I had to choose between the two I would sooner have that than the stones."

They were sitting in the library, and fieoffrey was making marks on a piece of blotting-paper with a pen, and occasionally dotting down a figure as if he were engaged in some little calculation. Sii James watched him curiously. "Aie you thinking how much it would cost?" he inquiied presently. "Well, paitly," -aid Geofl'iey, with a l.uiijh, putting down his pen. He could not, of course, acknowledge that the wild thought had Hashed through his mind of sacrificing a part, or even the .whole, of his jjrivaU fortune in prdcr to.

replace the diamonds that his uncle had lost. He would sooner do that than allow suspicion to fall upon Joan — even in his thoughts he would not go further than the word "suspicion," although he might have said disgrace.

But if his uncle wanted the clasp, that was a different thing altogether. He, Geoffrey, might buy diamonds just as good as the stones that had been lost, -but he cculd not replace the clasp unless he obtained it from the hands of the person who had stolen it.

He racked his brain to remember whether he had noticed any sort of clasp on the necklace which he had seen at the castle well. He could "not in the least remember. The glittering "stones had been visible enough, but at the- distance at which he stood he could not see how they had been fastened. The very fact that he did liot remember noticing the clasp, which was sufficiently large to be visible even at a distance, inspired him with a ray of hope. Perhaps the stones that he had seen were not those belonging to the Rockinghams after all.

Why should he have concluded so hastily that it was the Hockingham necklace? It was quite possible that Joan Carrington had a diamond necklace of her own — possible, but not likely — and, of course, she possessed every right, to do as she pleased with her own property. In that case there would be no question of dishonesty. The only problem that^ would remain to be solved lay in her relation to the man to whum ihe had given the dia-n-onds and had allowed to kiss her on mouth and" hair and eyes. It was the remembrance of those kisses thxt rankled in Geoffrey's heart more than the loss of the diamonds.

"T have :> proposition to make," he said, pushing pen *r>nd paper from him and looking Sir James in the face. "I have, I must confess, some slight suspicion as to the person who has robbed you, but I don't fee! myself justified in saying more." "Eh. what?" interrupted his uncle. "You have a clue and you won't impart it to me? Come. Geoffrey, that's absurd. I must know all about it."

"I think you said just now," said Geoffrey quietly, "'that you wanted me to make necessary inquiries and call in the yia of London detectives. If you mean that, you must give me authority to act as I think best, and the first thing that I shall advise is absolute silence and sicrecy. Therefore, it would be foolish for me to impart to you any conjectures of my own until I am a little inoije assured of their truth than I am now."

"Well, well," said Sir James, slightly mollified," "there's something in that ; and, of course, I have every confidence in you. Still, if I didn't mention it to your aunt, eh?"

'"I would rather not speak at present," said Geoffrey, leaning back in his chair, "because, you see, Uncle James, if I am mistaken I shalL throw, suspicion "unjustly upon the person of whom I am thinking. Ii you will- give me leave to follow up my own clue, I think I could be able to help you more than- any detective can do." Sir James looked dubious, and tapped his fingers on, the table. *'I am sure^ytu would do your very best, Geoffrey," he said ; "but don't you think that an experienced man from London — some sort of Sherlock Holmes, you know, who would discover the thief by a mark on the win-dow-sill or a dropped shoe-button — would be more efficacious than your best efforts? Mind, in saying that I am not throwing any reflection upon you, but a man with trained instincts and experience in the ways of criminals might draw conclusions from very small things which you would never think of."

"I am afraid Sherlock Holmes has ceased to exist," said Geoffrey, "and our London police are not distinguished for their acuteness. Of cour&e, sir, if you like to place it in their hands, I will leave it to them, but I would rather not have anything to do with it unless I manage the inquiry in my own way." "Well, perhaps you\ are right," said Sir James, veering round, as he usually did, to the last opinion propounded in his hearing. "You young barristers 'get an insight into the shady side of life, I suppose, and if you think you have got a, clue already I should not like \o put difficulties in your way. Very well, my boy, I will leave it in "your hands for the present. But, of course, you ' know, if you find; that your efforts come to naught, and you would rather the police took it up, you will let me know?'

"Certainly I will," said Geoffrey, with more heartiness than he had hitherto displayed in the interview. He had been -very much perplexed as to his duty, for in oidinary circumstances lie knew that lie ought to have informed his uncle of the transaction that he had witnessed at the castle well, and his conscience toid him that lie would have done so liad the woman concerned been a maidservant, or any person for whom he felt no particular regard. ' He was even now uncertain as to whether he should keep silence for more than a limited time. Bub it seemed to him that he could do more, •perhaps, in the »vay of discovering the truth w ithout the aid of the police than with it.

It w.i« on the morning fifter Sii James's iiinval that Lady Rockingham came to her nephew with a "lace full of diMre-^.

"Do you kmw, Geoffrey," >4ie Faid, "I am afraid we have given Jo.;n gicat offeiice."

In what way?''

"Well, I .suppose it was because we did not confide in her," said Lady Rockingham, in an injured tone. "You know you warned me not to tell any one about the diamonds, and although I said to myself that I should probably tell Joan all about it, yet it seems that she heard the story first fi om • Nina t Townley, and I really think she considers herself aggrieved that Nina should know all about it before she did."

"That doesn't sound liki Joan/ said Geoffrey, impulsively. "Well, no, it doesn't," said his aunt. "But than aha is behaving go oddly that

I hardly know what to think. Has shf quarrelled with you. Geoffrey?"

"Not quarrelled exactly, but I fear that I have given her some offence," said Geoffrey, looking down.

"Well, dear, couldn't j'ou make it up again?" said Lady Rockingham comfortably. "You young people are always se? particular whether you are right or wrong. Now. even if you are right and she wrong, it is really just as easy for you to go and. apologise and pretend that you were mis--taken, and all that sort of thing. I assure you, my dear boy, that it is the person who is m the right who always has to -apologise in the long run. There is no deadlier offence than being wiser than your lieighbour's."

"You are quite cynical,; Aunt Charlotte,"" said Geoffrey ; "but I am afraid your acl« vice is not much good to me at present. Joan is not i> person who will easily forgiv* an toffence."

"Oh, you cannot have offended her so deeply as all that," said his aunt, looking aghast. "I am sure you would neverbe anything but kind and considerate, Geoffrey. I suppose that is the reason why she talks of going away !"

"Of going away?" Geoffrey repeated in a stupefied way. ,

"Yes, she says that she must get back-, to London. That her father will be back. " and will want her. She is quite resolved upon it. She says she is going up to London to-night." ' '.

Geoffrey-- looked grave. He could nofc help feeling that Joan's desire to escape fiom his aunt's house pointed again to her complicity at least in the theft of the diamonds. If all the facts' became public at any time, it would be a point against her that she quitted St. Rom'auld's so abruptly after the loss of the necklace had been made known. He was almost inclined to seek her out and to advise her very strongly to remain. But on second thoughts he decided that, seeing she was offended with hini, it would be better not to interfere.

"Nina Townley talked of going; too,' said Lady Rockingham, in. a, tone of pro : found depression ; "but I persuaded her to stay on. I believe people are flfraid tliat there are burglars about and that they will lose all their possessions. Our party is quite broken up. The Craigies are going to-morrow, and theAthertons have written? to say that they cannot come, so we shall be quite deserted." ; "Ask. some more people," said' Geoffrey, "and don't worry about the diamonds, Aunt Charlotte. I think you will get them back. But if I were you I should say as little as possible about your loss." "I will do just as you advise, of course, Geoffrey; but one cannot prevent people from talking, and it is impossible to keep a thing of that kind quite a secret. .'And- 1 must' say that old General Craigie seems to think it very odd that you don't at once place the matter in the,/ hands'- ,6f the police. You won't mind my .saying so> will you, but he says that gentlemen hay*, no business to act as private detectives." ' ' "I am quite of his opinion, " jsaid Geoffrey, gloomily. "But at the same time, if I recover the diamonds for you without the help of- a detective, I don't Bee why I shouldn't do it. The general is an antiquated old fossil. 1 " "So he is, dear," said Lady Rockingham. adapting herself to her nephew's mood very much as his uncle had done, for she was really very fond of him, and Geoffrey was a power in the family. But at th« same time she thought it would be much more satisfactory if several policemen and a, detective in plainclothes, like those that figurpd so largely in the pages of her favourite novels, could have been sent for at once

Geoffrey felt himself indeed in a dilemma. He was, in fact, acting in a way which might be called dishonourable, and which was certainly unprofessional. He could not bring himself to disclose the facts of which he had beoomp r^^csed. He could not oring himself to believe that Joan had committeed a crime, .v.d yet he saw that the evidance would bo strongly against her if her proceedings became known. He made up his mind, therefore, to keep perfect silence and, if necessary, to suffer suspicion himself rather than let it fall upon her, ifor he could not look at her candid face and her clear, limpid eyes withoiit declaring to himself tbtit she was as truthful, as frank, and as innocent as a child.

Meanwhile Joan Carrington herself was a prey to very distressing emotions. Geoffrey had paid court to her most assiduously, and had entirely won her heart. ' Up to the moment of their interview in the Hall she was quite prepared to accept him as her husband, and had only wondered once or twice when the avowai of his love for her was to come. His looks and words on the morning aftei the disappearance of the necklace had been a shock and a grief to her.

She could not understand him. She could not in the least imagine how she had offended, but it was plain that for some reason or other he was extremely angry with her, and had suddenly become cold as ice and impervious as steel to all her timid advances. And, knowing .him as she did, she felt that he would not behave to her in that manner unless some extraordinary change had taken place in his feelings towards her. Was it possible that he had fallen a victim to Nina Townley's charms? She had ouce or twice suspected that "Sirs Townley was anxious to attract Lirn, but she had hitherto 'felt . perfectly sure that Geoffrey was beyond the reach of her blandishments. NoV, - however, her

faitb was shaken.

Evidently Nina was or- the best of terms with him -and Lady\ Hoekingham, whila Geoffrey treated her with cold indifference, and even Lady Rockingharb tatrayed some vexation when told of Tier approaching departure. But Joan was determined that she would stay -no longer than was necessary in a house where sue was not wanted;' and with the aid of Lucy she packed her boxes and made ready to catch the evening train. "I can't quite get the marks out of than blue cloak oj| ifouxSj miss," tail lu.ju ••

Ac brought the garment back to Miss CarSington's room. "What marks?" said Joan. "You must have sat down in it somefwhere last night, miss, for it was all over sand — that reddish sort of sand such as goo. see all about the castle. I have often (noticed it about my things when I have |>een about them ruins." "But I didn't wear the cloak last night, ,liticy." "Well, some one did," said JJucy, "for I found it lying in the hall last night, as Jdusty and dirty as it well could be ; and as SI knew I put it out for you, I thought, of 'course, miss, as you'd worn it." "No, the evening was too warm for it," feaid Joan, in a reserved, voice. "I took fcnly a. light wrap. Perhaps someone els- 2 tub it on." * Lucy thought it natural that the young iady should look slightly vexed and asJtomshed ; but she was surprised that Miss XJarrington asked no more questions. "If somebody else had been spoiling a beautiful cloak' of mine," thought the maid, j"I know I should have made a tremendous (fuss about it. But there, Miss Carringrton's not one to think very much about jber clothes." In which remark she was ialtogether wrong, for Joan was rather fond of pretty things, and dressed simply and plainly on account- of want of means rather (than from want of thought. "Well, if you must go, dear," snid Lady Rockingham, with a touch of coldness in her voice, as she kissed Joan's cheek that •fternoon, "of course, we cannot keep you. •But I am very disappointed, because you aprcmised to stay till the er,d of September. I cannot think why your father should .Want you at this time of year." "Are you sure he is at home, dear?'' Baid Mrs Townley, in her suaves-t tones. "I had a letter yesterday from a friend »ho said that Major Carrington was in the *p.me hotel with her at Blankenberghe." Joan coloured vividly. "He is coming home very boon," she laid, "and the house must be got ready for him, you know. Indeed, 1 am very sorry to leave, Lady Rockingham, but I find that ' i must go to-day." 1 "Well, you will have company," said , iLady Rockingham. "Where's Geoffrey? )You know he is going by this train, too, don't you? Rather fortunats for you, jbecause it is so much nicer to have an iescort." Joan was pale enough now. "I — I don't require an escort," she faltered. "I hope Mr Brandon has not jphosen this train on my account.' ■ "Oh, dear no — nothing of the kind !" eaid Lady Rockingham briskly. "He is tobliged to go up to London on this matter «f the diamonds, you know," she added, in % loud whisper, which everybody overheard. is going to take the matter up, and ' track the criminals down ; but we must not say anything about it, because he says that the whole thing ought to be kept a ■ Becrel." I "I hope he will be successful,"' said Joan Taintly. But her heart misgave her at the .prospect of a railway journey to London j t'fh company with Geoffrey. Would he • explain nis behaviour, or would he ignore ' ier altogether, or treat her simply as one })\ his aunt's guests? She felt a sudden liionviction that the journey to London (would be to her a time of torture, and that it was possible that Geoffrey him«elf would be the torturer. (To be continued.)