MY LADY'S DIAMONDS. THE NOVELIST.

Otago Witness, Issue 2522, 16 July 1902, Page 71

MY LADY'S DIAMONDS.

THE NOVELIST.

♦> By ADELINE SERGEANT. CHAPTER XL— CONVALESCENCE. IEN Geoffrey came back to consciousness he found hiAself one of a row of patients m the large airy ward of a London hospital. At first he was too weak to ta!k, or e\en to think very much, and lay for day& without making intjuiiies, either about himself 01 hi<; friend*. The doctors came and looked at him, and sometimes gave him a goo-l de.il of p<dn. At other times they mi.de reini'ik'- in what seemed to him to fee an unknown tongue, and to these he uedded and smiled in reply. Then the nurses gave him matcei-oi-fact attentions, and he came to take a languid interest in their movements, and in the aspect of the other patient^ in the wt'rd. The brightness of the place pleased him, tee: the flowers on the table, the fire in the grate, and, perhaps, best of all, the itLVge, high windows, through which he could .see the blue sky and white clouds bailing across it. Ihen one morning he was aroused to a further sense of consciousness by the arrival of familial* faces. Suicly it was his Aunt Charlotte who sat at his side, and cried a little over him, and Sir James who patted him on the shoulder and bade him "'cheer up"? But the^e fiiendly visits faded away so soon that he was obliged to ask his nurse afterwards whether they had come or not ; and when >-lie told him that they had' he was almost too tncd to hops that they would come again. But on auolhei day he had a still moie •welcome visitor. Was it possible that Joan herself had come down fiom her pedestal? — had emerged, somehow, mil of the clouds of distance and resentment . and sat hv Ins, side, and took his hand in heis? He know that he was very pleased to see hei, and he murmured some voids in which he asked for her forgiveness. But lie would have been puzzled to have iecal!ed the precise way in which lie had offended her. He only knew that he had done so somehow, and that ie w,>s very good of hrir to come and .see him, vlien she had been no angry with him. Perhaps he expressed this feeling iv some timid, hesitatjiig nay. for Joan knelt down and whispeied to him • Deaiest (Geoffrey, don"1 let us think (< f the pa ft. Only pet ve'l. for roy .sake, and I shall be bimny ' ' "Yes. I v, ill get we!!."' Oetiffrey murmured. ''And we can hunt down the lie. the slandei, together. Wh.it was it? 1 cannot remember now I only know that there was something." '"You must not tliink about it." said Joan, coaxingly. '"It will only make yon • 3)001 head ache. See. the nurse is looking at n^. and she doesn't like you to "be tired. -I "When I am bettei.' 1 said fTeoffiey, still very feebiy, "you will tell me about it, will you not '!'' ' Every word," said Joan, smiling, brightly, although her heart was really filled with anxiety and fear. "Because, you know, I don't remember exactly what happened. How did I get here? Did I fall somewhere, or did someone push me down?" "You feji," said Joan, prudently resolv-.

ing to say as little as possible. "But- i\ doesn't mp.lter hov7 yon were licit, doe* it? All yon liars to dc ie to vreii" ao soon, ac possrbls." " And whea I sm ~e~~ " -,aid -Geoffrey.' detaining Lei- by cbe feeble cla:,p ol kit fingers, "yon vrill vzcztv me, ;ril yoa not, Jora:? I kr.077 thai iras — hra 2* vrrarted moc. of «.!!. Promise iLs.:, vo3 will.; '"Yer, I 1 .Tocr, irl.4 grcs-ely sa» r-edateiy, v/ithoai ;.ny lues *£ emotion of csy kind. 'L -will do txac-tlf, os you like, only jfou must get be ler Srs'-, and ss qnickly Ei ever you can " Use rrurce came Tip r.t Shis poiac "t~, Trzra, lisi that the interview had last-Ed lengf euoagi, and Joan loot her leave. Bst' the visit Y&\ done good, and not harm, as the irorEs^^DE discovered, for hit sleep bikl appetite 4»adily improved from thr.t &zj »• and he vras always better 'after the occiiK.on&l visit which she allowed heraelf it payBut ihc had to he extremely cireful lev 3lioosing hex time for these visits, as % uz;s &ad strange -coldness had sprung cj>' betv/3en herself and Lady RoclcicghanT. Thers had been no explanation befctreea {ftem; but Joan felt the change ia he? old friend's manner from the moment- when fehey first met in London. Lady Rockinghaw. had fros3n her with a glance, and, alroost-tnrusd her back upon her, and -made no rnsiver to the small observations that Jo.ii> permitted herself to make. Tii? change was so striking that it coulu only be explained by the .theory that! Lady Koclnnghaai had developed some su&t picion of Joan's straightforwardness in the matter of the robbery at St. JRomuald'c. How thi>, had come about Joan could not say, for it seemed at present as though all inquiry into the matter had ceased. While Geoffrey lay so iH there could be no thought in the Rockinghams' minds fos anything but nis recovery and although Joan connected the accident with which he was supposed to have met i\ith in his .endeavours to track the thieves, it was very plain that such an idea had never entered tflie minds of his relations. But by-and-bye Geoffrey grew stronger, and 'began to put things together, and to recall the events of the night of lm visit to the flat occupied by Julius Townley. But it took him some little time to piece his distorted memories together, and he was well on his way to recovery before he had got a full grasp of all that had happened before he was brought to the hospital. When he was a little better he was removed from the general ward to a comfortable private room, where his frierida could spend more o"f their time with him; and Lady Rockinghara, who • was an affec^ tionate soul, took the greatest possible pleasure in spending a portion of everyday at his bedside and in bringing him stacks of flowers and all sorts of delicacies I which he was not allowed to touch. But site and Joan did not come together ; and, although it was some time before Geoffrey remarked this fact, he was not slow to notice the shade of cold reserve which cvo«sed his aunt's face whenever her name wds> mentioned. It needed an effort befoie he could bring liimself to question 'her about it, for in his weak state he rathei shrank from argument or ' unpleasantness. But the difficulty had to be met and faced, so lhat one day he asked a question which Ladj- Rockinghan 1 found it diffi<_ulL to auswer. "Why does not Joan come w itli you sometimps ?" Geoffrey said. "Ob, I don't know !'' his aunt answered vaguely. "Why should she come? She is not a relation, and it is not usua l for giv\" to pay visits to men when they ara ill." ''Isn't ii?" said Geoffrey. 'I thought it was considered a w oik of charity. At the same time, although we are not related to each other, she is vei*y dear to me. Joan is my promised wife, and I mean to marry her as soon as a marriage is poF&ible." "Oh, my dear Geoffrey.' said Lady Rockmgham, in a tone of genuine distress, "are tou really sure that you care for her?" "Of eonrse I am sure ! * Why, Joan and I have been half engaged for the last year ' or two, and I hesitated only because I was not sure whether my sincoine -would allow me the luxury of a wife. Birt I have come to the conclusion thnt it i* better to be poor and happy together than to wait j ear after year ioi the chance of a larger income.'' "Oh, my dear Geoffrey," said Lady R-ockinghum, "1 am sure that your uncle would make you a sufficient allowance, in case, of coni'f-e, you weie marrying to please him.'' '"Well." said Geoffrey, looking at hei keenly, •and f-houlfl I inn he manning to })ieab-e him if I married Joan? ' '■Oh, v. eIJ, my deal boy. it is a difficult matter to di£cu«- ! Don't you think you had better ask him yourself? You see, the connection )V not altogether .desirable. Miijor C'nrrington is lather a dieadful old .man. if all Tepcntfc are true." "There is no harm in lnm." urged -Geoffrey "He is a bit fond of play, I ackuowleds? ; but there is nothing absolutely to be said agam&l him, and you couldn't find a more perfect character than Joan's. She is as> tine and gone! and unselfish a c any ■wuman in the woiid, and, I fchall win a treasure when I make hei my wife'"' "Oh, well, it's very nice to hear you say &o, Geoffrey ; but are you really i=ure that she will make you happy?"' 'Why not?' said Geoffrey, in a tone of well -simulated a-stonishment. "Joan has always been sncli a favourite of yours."'' Lady •Rockingha-m jumped np from her seat, and walked towards the window, tlien. back to the where she poked tiie fire in a perfunctory *ort of manner, as if, Geoffrey knew well, to cover some perplexity or agitation that hbe ■dia not wish* bina to perceive. But he was determined to get a definite answer of «ome bind. "You cannot possibly object to Joan. * he went on remorselessly. "Think ho.'* yon hav-e thrown her in my way. am-; how often she has stayed at tbt Tnv, < . when I have been there 1 In fact. \ on tnl'"j me some months a.'o that n<»tliinj v.o-ulii

give you greater pleasure than to see me married to her. I don't think Major jparrington's reputation has deteriorated feince then, so that cannot affect the question very much."

*'Oh, dear Geoffrey," said Lady Rockingbam, almost wringing her hands, "how I do wish that you would speak to your Uncle Tames! You know very well that I always loved Joan, and treated her as if she were my own daughter. But the Fact is that your uncle's mind has been ppisoned, so to speak, by the insinuations i)f that little wretch of a detective that t told you about at St. Romuald's — Tanner is his name — who has been poking and prying about, and imputing evil to the most •nnocent persons, until I have been quite Distracted." ; "Do you, mean that he has been speaking against Joan?"' said Geoffrey, with a sternness which rather frightened Lady Rockingham. "Oh, well, dear, you know what these fhen are! He tried to prove that Joan left the house one evening, and went to the jcastle ruins between 10 and 12 to meet Homebody who was staying in the neighbourhood. Such an unlikely thing for )any girl to do ! I told James that- it was perfectly absurd ; but he says that Tanner Is a very clever man, and we ought to pay attention to his theories.'' I "So your mind has" been poisoned, as pell as my uncle's !"' said Geoffrey, in a reproachful tone. I "No, my dear Geoffrey, don't say that ! [Nothing would induce me to believe that JJoan could realty act in an unbecoming ananner ; and as for her being mixed up in any way with the people who stole my Diamonds, I think it is perfectly monstrous ! Still, ii is possible for any girl to be foolish and indiscreet, and if Joan could make Widnight assignations with a man whom nobody knows anything about, she is certainly not a fit wife for you, and that is exactly what your uncle says !"

"But I assure you, my dear aunt,"' said (Geoffrey eagerly, "that it was not Joan )srho met the man in the castle ruins that ■light. I know all about it, and lam nearly certain that I know who the person was that borrowed Joan's cloak, and wore it for the purpose of disguising her-

. "Really, Geoffrey ! So you knew all about it all the time ? How clever you are ! (But why didn't you mention it before you left the Tower?"' ', 'Ah, that was the awkward question ! JSeofirey felt that his -honour and possibly 'Joan's reputation were imperilled for ever tf "he said that he had actually seen the diamonds exchange hands. He temporised, therefore.

"I was not quite sure that it was neessary ito speak. It was not my business, you know. But you may make your mind perfectly easy about Joan on that score. She jwalked in the garden only that evening, »rd never went outside the park palings.'

• "I am very glad to hear it, indeed I am !"' j^aid Lady Rockingham, with every appearance of sincerity. "And you say you are quite sure, Geoffrey? Then, of" course, you know who it, was?"

"I am not quite sure,"' Geoffrey admitted, ".md until I have absolute proof I should cot like to say. But. my dear aunt, you /will do me a very great favour if you urill tell Uncle James what I say, and if, you will show Joan some kindness, for I think she is hurt by your manner to lier, which was certainly very cold on the one occasion when I saw you together." " "I promise you that I will be as nice as possible. Geoffrey, and I am delighted to hear that you can disprove these calumnies. V It would be too dreadful if the daughter of 'sin old friend of mine, as Joan is, were l guilty of anything that would throw a eljiT upon her character !"'

Geoffrey's brows contracted a little. It .<was borne in, upon him with considerable force that he could not exacjly prove his l^vord, because he had only Joan's assertion, which he most implicitly believed, to ae!y upon. But; would ftiir Jame.<.- and ELady Eockingham accept Joan's word as he fliad done? He knew perfectly "well that « T oan spoke the truth ; but he had not a kittle of evidence on her behalf, if it came jto an exact sifting of the facts. Therefore, he was silent a minute or two, and i:ould but devoutly hope that Lady Rockjugham's mind was not logical enough to bee the weaK point in hi« defence.

His aunt herself led the way to another lubject which was uppermost in his mind.

• "I have not seen anything of Nina •Townley lately,"' she said. "I wonder she is still in London. You jriidn't see her, I suppose, before you met vith your accident?'

. "Only once, quite casually, at the Eail's Court Exhibition, N and then I did not speak .to her," said Geoffrey. "By the way, have you known her very long?" . "Ages!" said Lady Rockingham, indefinitely — "that is to say, four or five years at tiie very least. I will tell you who she •is, if you don't know. She is the daughter of- a country clergyman, and married straight out of the schoolroom, a man who /was not, I believe, a suitable match for lier in any way. He came of a good 'family, and he had some money, I believe ; fcut I have always heard that he was reckless and dissipated, and I think it was a {happy release for Nina when he died.' 1 "He died, did he?" said Geoffrey absently. "My dear Geoffrey, what are you thinking of? Of course, Nina Townley is a .widow. I sometimes wonder ■why she Idoesn't marry again, for she is not too ;well off, although she makes a very good appearance. I think she is often a little jmxious about money matters, and that was ,why I did not put any obstacle in her Sray when she wanted to come to London to see about her shares.'

"Shares?' 1 with a touch of amusement in his voice ; but the amusement was rather grim. "Shares — in a company," said his aunt tather doubtfully. "I don't know very jnuch about money matters ; but she always understands' them- very well, or s>eems it*—*

"Her husband left her money, then?"' said Geoffrey, with interest.

"Oh, I suppose so. Really, I never inquired into the source of her income. How inquisitive you are, Geoffrey ! Now, if you were thinking of marrying her "' "Heaven forbid!" said Geoffrey piously.

"Well, then, you would at least have some reason for your questions. But 1 don't know exactly you are driving at."

"Idle curiosity, that is all,"' said her nephew, not quite truthfully. "Did you ever see the defunct Mr Townley?'

"No, my dear, I never did. He must have died some time before she was introduced to me. iShe was in mourning for him, I remember, and very pretty she looked. It was at Lady Langham's. And she told me, I remember, that Lady Langham was a cousin of hers ; so, of course, I knew that her antecedents were unimpeachable, for Lady Langham is so very particular. She told me that she was very fond of Nina, who had been so unfortunate in her marriage ; and then I think she was going to tell me something more ; but we were interrupted, and I never had the opportunity of renewing the conversation." "I suppose," said Geoffrey slowly, "that she asked you- to be kind to Mrs Townley —invite her, and all that sort of thing?' "Well, yes. she did," said Lady Rockingham, with an air of surprise. "And 1 always did my best for the poor thing, because Lady Langham is an influential sort of woman, and one doesn't like to offend her. I think I have invited Nina, to all my big parties since that time, and to a good many little ones as we]). Indeed, I have grown quite fond of her ! Don't you like her, Geoffrey?"'

"I think she is veiy pretty," said Geoffrey ; "and, no doubt, as you say. she has been very unfortunate. Is she still friendly with Lady Langham?"

"Aly dear boy, don't you know that Lady Langham died six months ago? 1 dare say Nina inherited something from her; but I never liked to ask particular. If she marries again, I hope she will get a better husband than she did at first."

"You are sure." said her nephew, with what seemed to her extraordinary pertinacity, "that her husband is dead':"

"What a question, Geoffrey ! Why. she wore widow's weeds,"' said Lady Rockingham, as if no answer could be more conclusive. And Geoffrey knew that it was no use to pursue the subject.

CHAPTER X&.— ANNALS OF THE PAST.

The way in •which Geoffrey came by his accident had, of course, been the subject of inquiry, but he himself was leticent about it, preferring to think that the blow which had been aimed at him %vas not meant to endanger his life. The story which Townley and Cronin had told to the tenants who came rushing out to discover the cause of the commotion on the stairs was^ that this stranger, whom neither oi them professed to know, had been prying about the door«, and apparently endeavouring to open them ; that Townley had spoken j»harnly, and that the young man, stepping backward m alarm, had missed his footing and fallen. The story sounded plausible enough until the tenants came to know that the young man was the nephew and heir of Sir James Rockingham, which disposed of the theory that he was a burglar ; but by that time Mr Townley had disappeared from Columbia Mansions, and his flat was once more "to let." But Geoffrey did not find out this- fact for some little time.

He was dangerously ill for some days, seriously ill for weeks, and veiy weak afterwards during the time of convalescence. It was Christina* time before he left the hospital, and the removal to his uncle's comfortable town house — tor it was not thought advisable that the invalid should be removed to Scotland — and the mild festivities of t lie season occupied Ins time and attention, almost to the exclusion of other things. He took but a languid interest in the search for the diamond*-, vhu.li, as Sir Barnes explained to him. had now been put into the hands of the police.

"And there it will remain, (ienffiey answeicd lazily "I don t think the\"H hml out anything '

He did not like to a«k whether Joan had mentioned the Indian clasp, or restored it to Lady Rockingham ; but he supposed that .she had not done so, or he would have heurd of it. His opportunities of speaking to her in private were minimised now that he was in his uncle's house, for she could not come without an invitation from Lady Rockingham, and Lady Rockiagham showed an extraordinary •unwillingness to invite her. Geoffrey chafed under the consciousness that his uncle and aunt suspected Joan of "conduct unbecoming a gentlewoman,' 1 as Sir James once phrased it ; but in his present state of feebleness he could do nothing. He was genuinely pleased, therefore, when Major Carrington one day called upon him, for it seemed to him there was now a hope of getting to know a little more about Joan's wishes and the general state of affairs.

"My dear Brandon," said the major impressively, "1 am indeed happy to see you so far recovered. And there is a little matter that I wish to speak to you about. In fact, I have been waiting in great anxiety until I cojld approach you on the subject."'

"About Joan?" said Geoffrey, with a quick flush showing itself on his pale cheek. "Has she told you? And will you give her to me, Major Carrington?"

"Told me? Told me what?" asked the major. "I know nothing' about giving her to anyone. That isn't the question at present."

"But ifs my question!" cried the young man.

"Wait a little, my dear boy. I Lave a business question or two to ask you first. We'll speak of personal matters afterwards. Now, tell me, is it true that you recognised the clasp of that necklet as one that was stolen from your aunt?" "I *m sorry to &ay I did," said Geof-

"Sc Joan lias tokl me. And you are certain of it?"' "Perfectly ceitain." The major moved uneasily on his chair. "Then, of roiu-se, it ought to be returned to Lady Rockingham."' "Well, in strict justice," said Geoffrey, regretfully, "I'm afraid it ought." Major Carrington was silent for a moment or two. His face grew very red, and his white eytbrows almost met above hi 3 angry blue eyes. Geoffrey could not imagine what was the matter, and attempted to soothe his appaient "«rath — not veiy happily. "I'm very sorry, sir, and, of course, it r-eems to put you in an awkward position ; but, jou see, I couldn't help it, and I was bound to mention it. Then my accident prevented me from explaining the matter to you at the time ; but if you like to let me have the clasp, I can give it to my aunt without precisely informing her how I came into possession of it, and thus there need be no— no embarrassment of any k; n d "

"Embarrassment, sir? What embarrassment should there be?"' said the major angrily. "It was sheer ignorance, of course, on my part. I should have come about the matter before had you been well enough to be consulted. Your accident has been most unfortunate."

"For me, certainly. But in what way to you?" said Geoffrey, who began to suspect some new disaster.

"It's a. very awkwaid thing to explain," «aul the major, gradually growing more and more purple. "Naturally, my daughter came to me when you had left her — on her birthday, you will remember — and told me the story. I was very much annoyed and disturbed ; but I said to her, ' Get the clasp, and send it to Lady Rockingham immediately. Write a note, and tell her how the thing came into your posseiMoii. She will understand.' "'

"Ye.«," said Geoffrey. "Of course she would understand. Well, Mr, what happened? My aunt has never told me thai she received the clasp."

"Because she never did receive ir."' <-r.iil the old warrior, with a burst of -what &pemed to- be fury. "It was never sent." Geoffrey looked his inquiry. "Jt was never sent, sir. because it was no longer in our posse.«sion. _ It is lost."

"Lost !" said Geoffrey, struggling into an erect position, for he had been resting on a long, lew lounge when Major Covrington came in.

"Yes, sir, lost !" shouted the major. "When Joan came to me with the story, I said : ' Don't lose a moment. Get the "necklet at once, and I'll cut off the clasp. Where is it?' And she told me she had left it, very carelessly, on a table in the drawing room."

Geoffrey nodded. He remembered that it had lain there when Joan left the room.

"When she went back to look for it. the case was there, but the necklet was gone. And up to this moment we have not been able to trace it."

"What did you do about it?" "1 called on the police at once. I left no stone unturned. I offered a reward. I advertised in the papers. I suspected the servants, and made every one of them turn out their boxes, for which they all gave notice, and left us without a maid in the hou&e. But we did not find the necklet."

"An evil fate seems to pursue that clasp," said Geoffrey, almost impatiently. He reflected for a moment or two, then looked up, and asked whether Major Carrington could give the precise time at which the loss was discovered.

"I can, sir,"' said the major promptly. "It was half-pa<-t 5 when Joan left the necklet in the drawing room. It was 10 o'clock at night when -we discovered that it was lost."

■'.Some one mu«t have got into the room.* '"Nobody could get in from the street, as far as we can see. The Hou.se stands in a ell-lighted thoroughfare, and the drawing loom ib uphtan<-, on the first flonr."

enter the drawing

"Did no stranger room?"

'"Certainly no stranger '"' said Major Carrington, with dignity. "One lady called, and was shown into the room, the servant thinking that my daughter was still there. But. of course, a friend of my daughter's is. above .suspicion !"

"Who was the lady?" Geoffrey asked .sharply.

"The lady? Oh, one well known to yourself — well known to Lady Rockingham. A Mrs Townley."

Geoffrey utteied a sudden exclamation, and rose to his feet.

"I might have known, it," he said to himself, rather than to the major. "I might have suspected it. Another link in the chain."

"I do not quite catch what you are saying," said the major, in a tone of offence. "Of course, a friend of Lady Rockingham's is quite above suspicion ! She was not in the room two minutes. She came to «cc Joan, having stayed at Lady Rockingham's house when my daughter was there."

"Ob, yes ; I quite understand. Above suspicion — yes/ said Geoffrey mechanically. He had turned so pale that even Major Carrington noticed his change of colour, and was alarmed.

"I'm afraid I have tired you," he said, coldly. "But I heard that you were better, and I thought I ought to come as soon as possible and lay the matter before you. I should, perhaps, have come before ; but Joan seemed so nervous and unstrung about the whole affair that I thought 1 would wail, not knowing that your illness would be such a long affair."

"Pray don't apologise, major," said Geoffrey, affecting a carelessness of tone which he was far from feeling. "There seems a mystery about this Indian clasp — not to speak of the diamonds that my aunt lost at the same time. You won't object to my telling Sir James of this robbery, will you? I think we must put the matter iato hie luytdi."

"Of course — of course ! I will gc to Sir James at once, if you like."

"No, don't trouble. I'll think it over first, if you don't mind. My uncle put the matter into my hands, you see ; and, of course, I shall be anxious to arrange it with the least possible trouble to you and your daughter. You will remember what I said just now, won't you, sir? I want to make Joan my wife as soon as I am well and strong, if you will kindly give your consent."

The major stood up stiffly.

"Joan will choose for herself." he said. "I have no hope of being allowed to influence her. And — cr — I think that until this matter is cleared up "

"Nonsense !" said Geoffrey. "You don't mean to keep me waiting until that unfortunate cla«p is found? Excuse me, sir, but I shall not stand any such delay."

Major Carrington spread out his hands. "I have nothing to say," he answered. "I shall leave Joan to make her own decision. She hinted that, for some reason or other, she was likely -to be blamed. If that were the case, I should certainly advise her to wait until the diamonds and the clasp were found."

"If anyone blames her, that person will have me to deal with, and will not have a. particularly pleasant time," said Geoffrey viciously. But he could not rouse the major to any geniality of tone. And when he was left alone, he fumed and fretted until he brought on a headache, which i educed him to helplessness for the re«t of the evening.

(To ba continued.)