THE DOVERFIELD DIAMONDS.

Timaru Herald, Volume XC, Issue 13278, 6 May 1907, Page 2

THE DOVERFIELD DIAMONDS.

C'niig, when I hail finished, was silent for a monent, then —" Have j'ou mafic any move—since leaving the doctor i" he askeu. " Made it?—not quite."' " Planned it, 'then " I have written to ' Parchments,' " I replied. " Instructing him —to do what?" " lo go into the detailed personal history of tho Doverfields for two generations." " Very good!" " li, an Bird declares, Mrs. Doverfield may ba ill for weeks to com'?, tliere is amine time for ''Parch-J-auts* to communicate wiJi the West indies." Mean lima . . . you:'

"I shall not be idle.- Craigj tell me, candidly, where, in y.-.ur opinion, Austin Dovrrfiehl s.'.ands in this ca-e?"

" I wish I could, Ken. I want to think it over a little, bu;. I'll say this now: I know the lady by general reputation ;han from social contact. I know him a little better, for J'v3 coins into contact with him, now and again, in financial mattire in the city. And I now this—Austin Doverfield, within the past six weeks, has been -in great need of a large sum of morey, it without delay, and with as little publicity as possible, and has obtained it— : at the last minute—but from wbafc source no one seems to know.'' " Then it may b-o that the diamonds, the real ones, have gone to help him, eh ? And perhaps they may both ba almost compelled to play a part. Is that your idea?" " I -have not gone as far as that, and I advise you not to hurry to such a conclusion. But, Ken, don't be too ready to put it asidfe; lie may know all about it. Don't that: idea/' -'•".I won't-I'M declared with emphasis. "

• "And remember also, that the lady who is devoted to. a husband may also be ready to help ani only brother in his hour of need. Ifavo you— —" I tapped th? letter in my hand. '"I hare thought of that," 'I declared. " And it's abo"t time for the collection at the corner." I put on my hat-. "Hold on. Ken." Craie caught up the letters at.his elbow. "Plea 1 -® put these in the- le»tV£box along with your own little massive."

As I stepped outside, the topmost letter caught, my attention. I saw that it bore a twopenny half-penny stamp, which was 'addressed to one 1-eqn Savate, at which I uttered a low whistle. I knew this Leon Savate to be a French detective of almost international reputation. And then I deliberately glancpd at the others; all.were 'directed' to Paris. . One to a notary ,or as we should, say, a solicitor; whose name I had '-often heard upon the lips of Craig. The third letter was' to a sub-prefect of police, and the forrth—to a woman. Suddenly I recalled the queer half-smile upon my friend's face when I took the letters; and -then,, as they slipped from my hand,they slipped also from my mind ; for during the day I had bean acquiring a new and strong impression, fhree times since morning I had'received! from as many people the same hint . Look for a possible clue, and motive, towards Austin Doverfield and his financial ventures."

And this idea was. strong in my mind through all that day, during the hours of which I was busily engaged on other matt- rs. In the evening I w£nt to fulfil my dinner engagement with Mrs. Landis.

It- was a small party, and it seemed a most congenial one. Captain Wrayland was seated at his hostess's right hand, while his sister sat opposite beside her sta:ely host, who in matters social knew no law, save that of his wife. . Mme. Devinne Barthelme, somewhat to my surprise, war, led in by my friend Craig, while Enid Devereaux,, ( a lovely vision all in gleaming white, was escorted by young Landis, and quite to liis liking it would -seem. If Hal Landis felt a qualm of:jealousy or envy as he smiled across at the brilliant Frenchwoman, there was no sign of it in face or manner'; though I must say that Craig was making the running with immense self-sat-isfaction, I thought. As for myself, I led, or was led in by Loretta Garston, a doll in prettiness, with an innocent way, and a gossip-loving tongue. She carried diamonds enough for all present, for " Hi" Garston, who entered alone as usual, was the nephew of Mrr. Landis, and had inherited a fortune from both sides of his house. As first. I had little time to look about me and observe that for Mrs. Garston was bubbling over with gay chatter, in which, somewhat to my surprise, she-was ably abetted by Enid Devereaux, who sparkled and glowed as if she had never had a sad or serious hour. Then, during the momentary lull, I heard the voice of Craig. 'Yes," lie was saying, " I was there that day. I forget who won-the Grand Prix for I hate raring, but I shall never forgetthe attempted assassination of the French politican. The woman. . . "You saw her?" breathed Mme. Barthelme as ,she toyed with her glass. Some of the wine was spilled. Her hand war trembling and her face was pale. Madame fiarthe'me recovered herself instantly. She shrugged her shoulders as Craig answered, "I'can hardly,say I saw her," he said; ." I saw a weeping woman, and an angry man, escorted by gendarmes, and—friends, taken from the field, as one might say—but it- was a distant view onlv.

Madame leaned back in her chair and surveved him with pretended disapproval. " Arc—is it really true that you are going to disappoint Can "you not describe her—this fellow countrywoman of mine?" ' .." 1 ■ .

Oh-h!" Loretta Garston -turned with her swift sparrow-like movement, " I remember# that affair. ' We heard it even in school—:—"

"Horrible!" shruged Hal. " And," she went on unheeding-, " I never heard the end, you know; but the man was killed, wasn't he ? . . .er "

"This was never proven, Mrs Garston," murmured Craig. "The man Massonui? Why all the papers said he was killed—poisoned. And that she did it!" " Mon Dieu !" from madam. "You are lifting my ha.ir, my dear cousin." cried Hal once more. "Pah! Couldn't if I.would!" cried Mrs Garston, glancing scornfully at his close clipned head. " Really now, Mr Craijr, what was the end of i: ? They said she poi oned li.im and took the jewels. I seem to remember that after he died so suddenly it came out tha t she had b?en seen entering .his hotel; find she knew where he kept his treasures. What happened afterwards—l forget? What was the end?"

" I don't- think it lias ended, excent for him. Mrs Garston," replied Craig soberly. " I have a correspondent in Paris, however, shall I cable him for information?" " Do*!" cried the little lady ; " and then te'er>hone to me."

" 'Pon my word," again interposed Hal. Landis. " How our minds do run on jewels and jewel robberies." Hadame lifted dark. reproachful eyes. "Don't, ill- Landis. You remind me of my lost solitaire. All! where are your so fine police Was my reward too small?" "London, madam," declared Gannon. " can give it:; full attention to only one mystery at a at- present we are seeking for a great, collection of family jewels. Mrs Dorerfield's, you know. I have seen hints in the -newspapers; and lU'Tinnr is specially busy." "Oh. yes! Is there anything now?' asked Mrs Garston. "I saw tha.f. ... I think . . . in the newspapers," mused madam. "Does

any one know the true story ? How was it, Mr Jasper ?" lifting her fine eyes suddenly to my-lace. But Graig took up the word,, and soon the Doverfield Joss was the topic all about the board.

Then, presently, madam was telling—being urged to it by Loretta Garston—liow she had lost her own .fine solitaire, and how the search for it had resulted in such utter failure. But, ah me!" she said, with uplifted palms, "how can I talk of my loss here, where doubtless you are all friends of the lady . who has lost all her jewels ? Mon Dieu! and to put- them all together . . . in a drawer ... was ii not? , . . and not lock her

door ... it was'madness! You know her, Mr Craig . . ■/-. this lady?"

'"Very slightly." " Ah, you disappoint one, and I hear she is- so beautiful and charming. 'Who will tell me of her? . Who knows her best?"

Mrs Landis leaned forwnrd. " Mrs Doverfield." she said in her silvery voice, "is very ill, madam, so the morning papers tell vs. I know her—a little; she is a verr lovely woman, generous, sympathetic to her finger tips." ... " Thank you, dear Mrs. Landis." spoke Enid Devereaux. " Ara Doverfield is my dear friend, the one woman who wqnl'd never. dream of loss or danger to her iewels. To her <:hev were only part of her wardrobe, her rightful adornment. I dare c , ,r !y, to her, their' value was the least of .their merits."

"Why, of course," chattered Loretta Garston, Beauty for beauty's ralce, you kiimv!"' ' . "Besides," went on Enid, "my friend is too sincere herself, 100 trustful, to suspect- those of her household, or to dream of menace or danger. She has,lived in an atmosphere of trust, and honour all her life. Such women seldom look down." . " How charming !" murmured' madam. " Ah, I hkve heard just such delightfultilings said of your stately cultured Englishwomen. Cordial, confiding, fearless. There is a difference between you and us, I truly think. A Frenchwoman is brave, if you will, and she is cordial and kindlv. I also thihk she may b-?i just the least bit more practical than the English belle dame. She would, I believe, bo very sure to look well to the safety of her jewels, and would sleep sounder for it." Here she laughed musically. " You have heard, doubtless,' how our great ladies even protect their treasures by having them duplicated in parte'. Tf your friend had done tha, 1 .. Miss Devereaux-——"N ! " I cannot fancy Ara Doverfield wearing a sham any sort,", was Enid's answer. Later, in the drawing-room, while Loretta Garston was a! the piano, Mrs Deverea.ux signalled to me. I went- and sat ba-dda her.

"Kenneth," she said, with one of hexfriendly smiles, " you; are a born actor, and yet—l have made a discovery."

" You ara sure to do that, you know." "Nonsense! But, really, when you reared in your-place with that, slow motion of the shoulders and head, that looks so careless, but which I have learned to know " " As—what " "As betokening interest, beyond the moment.";, .- : "And in what?" ' "In/madam, and in her comments concerning the Doverfields' jewels. Something in her words impressed you." "Say, rather, amazed me." "Better still! and, it- was borne in upon ms at the moment thai; you are really in/ere?t«d—concerned —in that case.- There! You know I don't mean to be indiscreet." I laughed "as our eyes met-. " Only," she finished, "if I can aid you' . . . in any way . . . later, yoa know . . ■ "I know that I can trust you in all things, dear fri-nd." • • "And—in.that case, or in any cfwe that concerns Ara Doverfield, you can likewise trust Enid; she is true to her friends. "Thanks ... I shall not forget." " What about poor Mrs Doverfisld's illness?" ' ; >. "It"is a nervous breakdown, I. fancy. And Doctor' Bird forbids-- any thought of approaching her, seriously for weeks to come." ■ .' i " Indeed ! This, then, is another barrier to madam's prompt meeting with the poor child." .. ; i ; " You sav 'another' ?" I questioned. - "Yes; before you men came back from the dining room, Enid surprised me by questioning Madam Barthelme as to her social intentions and desires. Madam, it \seems, -does not intend to go out- much, for a time- at least." "And why? She seems a;butterfly."- " She expects to be joined soon by a brother, her only living relative, she says. He is an invalid; weak lungs, I believe, and she does not care to go when lie , cannot go; ,so long as lie 1 remains with her "Mr Jaspere" It was 'Enid's voice close behind us. "May I sits down here, and. say one little word?" "You may say two;. eli, Mrr; Devereaux?" " v -

"Oh, 'mutter' never -reproves me—-at least not often," declared the girl. " I want- ot ask a favour. I have been sure all along, that you were in the confidence of the Doverfields . . ."

"Upon . . . . my ... .word." " Oh, it's not so strange. -They'd be sure to ask your help. ■ And I want you to promise that- I shall know as soon as Ara can" see any one—and," bending toward m?, "if possible, le- me help you, anc'i her. This trouble will upset her so much. And I can nearly always cheer her a bit, if nothing more." . I started, and caught her hand. "It is the very thing, Miss Devereaux. Only please, go to the doctor. I believe he will be glad of your aid. after a littleV" As we drove home' together that night, Craig and I, our minds seemed to be occupied with different features of the evening's happenings. For myself, my chief interest- had followed the '"'■ordr-s and looks of Enid Devereaux and; ; Hal Landis, and I was well pleased to recall the girl's apparent ease and enjoyment-, and her manner towards H al; a mixture of unconcern, with just- the right degree of cordial frankness, and a well distributed interest in all who were about the table.

As for Landis, his enjoyment and composure were sufficiently evident. Indeed, one could hardly be less than satisfied with tho companionship of this beautiful girl. There was no trace left of the preoccupied and -sad Enid of 'the day before, and soon I found myself voicing some of these thoughts, but with no mention of Madam and her possible place in the minds of these two young people. "Hu—h"' Craig seemed to rouse himse'f from a reveri°. " And you think, then, that young Hal Landis may have been too much" atlracted by Madam's dark eyes and fetching smile, c-h? Well, and why'not-? T T ir, — T —^h—l am somewhat attracted in that direction myself." And he uttered a .•:horfc lanp-.h. " You !" I laughed also. "And why no' —pray?" " Why not, indeed ? Only . . . I'd far rather -see you ' attracted' -towards sweet Enid Devereaux." " i hanks, many; so much for friendship. Ken, for a clever fellow, you are sometimes horrib'y dull of perception. You have known this girl always-. You have s.een her, of late, far oftener than I have; and y:-t . . . and yet you don't seem awarethat, for her, th"re is but one man: that man is Hal Landis." He was silent for a moment. ,

"Yes, and I intend tn see that she has what she most wants. I may not be quite his match in the matter of personal appearance. . . ." " Such modesty," I interposed.

" But," ho continued unheeding, " I am his match, I trust, in diplomacy. And my motive, I believe, is as honest and as strong a c i his."

As for myself, with .all my dullness I thought I' saw a'new light—a light pure, white, and strong; sand presently I found myself saying to myself— - "Every heart it's sorrow knows Canker gnaws at breast of ro:.e— And then I laughed at my own absurdity : but I went to bed that night, thinking of Hal Landis and Enid Devereaux. As the days wore on, and the time for the arrival of the Cincinnati draw near, I found Captain Wrayland both restless and reckless. Ha almost haunted my office during the last- hours of our waiting. One morning I heard the sounds of laughter issuing from Craig's sanctum as I passed along the hall. My office boy bobbed up and' gave information according to his custom. "Captain Wrayland', sir—for you. He's waiting in there." Ho pointed towards my partner's door. I had entered with my mind full of a thing which I felt free to unburden to my friend. Having told him of my previous encounter with the sandwich man, I was now eager to tell of a fresh meeting with this queer personage. For I had seen him once more, and once more he had seemed to vani-h before my eyes. With my hand upon Craig's door t turned. "Anyone else with Mr Craig?" I questioned. " No, sir." I opened the door without, ceremony,, and whe her it was tha word I caught Or the* look I saw exchanged, leaving a broad smile on one face, .and the solemnity of a sphinx on the other, I felt- that Craig knew the story of Meyrick's intended return. With a'sense of relief, I sat down, and he went over the case with i's pros and cons oince more. When at last the Captain withdrew, we again the ground. "Of course," said Craig, "he—:Meyrick, will arrive in disguise." " Of course." "Going alone?" " No. Meyrick will probably be on the look-out. I only desire at first. to trace > him to his lair, and if possible, to learn if he has friends." "Jasper, who goes wi'.li you to meet this- boat?" 1 : _ " Kenyon—from ' ths. "i arcl.' if lie- gets [ back from Liverpool in time." i " Have vou arranged it?" ; "No." * ; :.i' V. ; : . " Then—suppose take me!" < "You, Carig. Will you go?" " I wish to go." " But this ' -jvill be. regular detective work. I'm bound to make myself ui>. He must not-know ma." " So much the better.'' " It's a bargain, old man." And I put out my hand.