The Bannatyne Sapphires

Taranaki Daily News, 2 September 1929, Page 14

The Bannatyne Sapphires

By

FRANK HIRD

With an exclamation of horror, Mrs. Bannantyne sank down upon a sofa, staring helplessly at her husband. This was rot the scene Bannantyne had expected after Patricia’s visit to London, He had even gone so far as to tell Grelkin he was sure she would come back with the necklace, make full confession, and there would be the end of the matter; of course, nothing was to be said to a soul. Because he was beginning to feel nervous, he said angrily: “There’s no need to drag Alice and the others into the matter.”

“There’s every need,” said Meredith quietly. He was standing just behind Bannantyne. Furious, the latter wheeled round to be met with the same expression in Meredith’s eyes—contempt and dislike—which he had seen in Patricia’s earlier in the evening, and which had made him feel uneasy. His nervousness increased, and.he said, speaking even more angrily than had done to Patricia.

“Mind your own business, Guy. You’ve no right to interfere.” “A woman’s honour is very much her husband’s business,” Meredith answered, “therefore I’ve every right to interfere.” Bannantyne’s irritation over what he considered Meredith's “barging in,” led him to say contemptuously: “Yes, I dare say. But you and Patricia are not married yet.” “We were married yesterday in London. I heard you were making this charge against her, and decided she ought to have the protection of my name.” • As he spoke Meredith crossed over to where Patricia was standing and put his hand on her arm. “Now, my darling,” he , said, “give Henry his .answer.” Patricia turned to Bannantyne. “You said Grelkin was still in the house. I wish him to hear what I have to say. Please send for him.” For a moment Bannantyne hesitated. An intense stillness was in the room. Mrs. Bannantyne and Julia Wryce, sitting side by side, were clasping .hands and looking straight in front of them. Maxwell Wryce, seated opposite, was looking hard at the carpet. Each felt the moment was electric with possibilities, and each one carefully avoided looking at Bannantyne, at the young and ,woman standing together by the. sofa, or at one another. The silence, the rigidity of these five people, gave Bannantyne a curious sensation that he, not Patricia, was the accused person. With a muttered, “Well, if you want a fuss you shall have it,’” he strode across to the fireplace and rang; the bell. When the butler had answered it and Bannantyne had- given his order ,Meredith, after a whisper from Patricia, left the room. He returned in a few moments carrying a cardboard box. “Phaugh!” cried Bannantyne directly he saw the box. “The whole thing is bluff! I knew it! Now, what pretty story are you two going to spin to explain how Alice’s necklace got into that box?”

As he spoke Mrs. Bannantyne and the two Wryces turned involuntarily and looked at the cardboard box. Then they looked at one another in amazement. An ugly pallor crept over Mrs. Bannantyne’s face, and she said under her breath: “Is it possible? Is it possible?” Then Grelkin came in.

Bannantyne went over to the fireplace and took his favourite attitude, his back towards the grate, his hands clasped behind him. It was a vantage ground from which he felt he dominated the room.

“I sent for you, Grelkin,” he* said, “because Miss Daynesford wished me to do so. You will remember last night she promised to tell me something about the sapphire necklace after she had been to London to-day. She wants you to hear what she has to say.” Grelkin bowed awkwardly. His quick eyes had noticed instantly the cardboard box which Meredith had placed in front of him on the padded arm of the sofa. Patricia made a few steps forward. This brought her directly facing Bannantyne. Bpt she spoke to Mrs. Bannantyne.

“Last night, Alice, Henry told me he

was convinced I had taken your necklace when I was here for the night of the 14th of July; that I took it to London on the 15th and pawned it for £3OOO. He considered he had absolute proof of this because of an entry in my diary which this man here”—a contemptuous wave of the hand indicated Grelkin—“stole from my bedroom. He- and Henry apparently read my diary all through and Henry has it now. At least, he has not returned it to me.”

“Honestly, Patricia,” said Bannantyne, much perturbed, “I had forgotten all about it —believe, me, I had.” Patric/a went on as if ho hail not spoken. “This man Grelkin, in Henry’s presence, told me that, because of this entry in my diary he had made enquiries and ha., found that I pawned a necklace at Ycs'tborough's on the 15th of July and that the necklace was redeemed a month ago. Upon this, knowing that Guy and I were in desperate need, Henry arrived at the conclusion that I had taken your necklace, ‘borrowed it,’ as he said, to raise the money to pay the taxes on the Mexican property; that I had. redeemed it when the property was paid, end had had no chance since of putting it back. “My answer to you, Henry, is that I did pawn a necklace for £3OOO at Yestborough’s on the 15th of July, and that I redeemed it a month ago. I have the necklace here.” She turned tc Meredith. He took off the lid of the cardboard box, then lifted from the box a circular-shaped leather case. This he gave to Patricia, She touched a spring which released the upper half of the case, then with a quick movement placed the open case on Mrs. Bannantyne’s lap, saying: “That was the necklace I pawned, Alice.” Bannantyne stepped forward; but instead of the marvellous unforgettable blue of his wife's sapphires which he expected to see, there was the blaze of diamonds of unusual size and lustre; and edging the diamonds was the sheen of magnificent pearls. Nobody spoke. Bannantyne stood staring down at the glittering stones as if suddenly stupefied. Mrs. Bannantyne was too bewildered by the hideous situation which had burst in on her quiet, well-ordered life to speak. Julia Wryce broke the silence. She had been bending down looking at the necklace closely.

“Surely,” she cried, turning to Patricia, “this is Mary *Latchmere’s necklace?” . “Yes, it is,'' Patricia answered, picking up the case and giving it to Meredith, “and for fear Henry should accuse me of stealing, or, as he puts it, ‘borrowing’ this necklace, too, I must explain how I was able to pawn it.” Bannantyne had gone back to his place on the hearth rug, but now he stood with his back to the room, looking at the empty grate. “You know how desperately Guy and I needed £3000,” Patricia continued. “When I got to London from here on the morning of the 15th of July it occurred to me that, although Mary Latchmere couldn’t possibly lend me the money herself, she might know somebody who could. So I went straight to her from the station and told her the position. She was full of sympathy and understanding, as she always is, but knew nobody. I was just coming away when suddenly she picked up this card board box which was standing on her table, and said: ‘I have it! Here’s my necklace! Pawn that, and get it out when you sell the property.’

“She said she believed she had no business to lend me the necklace, because it is one of the Latchmere jewels, so made the stipulation that I was not to speak on the mattehr to a soul, not even to Guy, for fear her husband would hear of it. She had worn the necklace the night before and was going to take it back to the bank when I arrived. They were just off to America, and it would be months before she would want the necklace again. And, as she said, it made no difference to Lord Latchmere whether the necklace was safe at the bank or safe at a pawnbroker’s, but it made all the difference in the world to Guy and me if it was at a pawnbroker’s. “ promised Iher that I would not tell anyone, and that directly Guy sold the Mexican property I would get the necklace out and put it in my own bank. This I did. Guy and I took it from the bank this morning and then waited all day for a cable from Mary in answer to one I sent from here this morning on our way to the station. That is a copy of my cable, and that is Mary’s answer.”

She held out a piece of paper and a telegram to Julia Wryce, saying, mockingly: “Bead them out, Julia. Henry is so suspicious that if Tread them he may think I am inventing.” Julia Wryce looked enquiringly at Mrs. Bannantyne, who in turn looked at her’husband’s back. Perhaps because he had made no sign when he heard Patrii cia’s explanation; perhaps, because his broad shoulders seemed obstinately noncommittal, Mrs. Bannantyne said,' a note of sharpness in her voice: “Please, read them.” Julia Wryce read from the paper: “By curious coincidence your kindness has resulted in charge of theft being made against me. May I break promise made in July? It is the only answer to serious attack on my honour. Writing. Patricia.” Then she read the cablegram, which ran: “Full liberty to say what you choose. Dying to know details. Mary.” Bannantne swung round quickly. His face was livid. “Why couldn’t you have told me this when I first asked you, the night Grelkin came?” he asked savagely. “Why couldn’t you have told me when you found I had every cause to suspect you ?” . x “You forget my promise.” “That’s all very well,” retorted Banriantyne, “but last night Grelkin and I assured you the name wouldn’t go beyond ourselves. If you had only spoken all this fuss and bother would never have happened.’’ “I’m not in the least surprised, Henry, that you should have thought I stole Alice’s necklace,” Patricia said, her voice showing that she was beginning to lose the marvellous control she had kept over herself througout tis painful scene. “You accused my fater of being a thief. It is only natural that you should accuse his daughter of being a thief as well!” Then she broke down, sobbing as she turned with outstretched arms to Meredith.

“Guy, take, me away! Take me awav!”

(To be Continued).