THE DOVERFIELD DIAMONDS.

Timaru Herald, Volume XC, Issue 13291, 21 May 1907, Page 2

THE DOVERFIELD DIAMONDS.

I placed tliis message before Craig, and availed his comment. K came in the form of a que>tion. " And .. . . how do you interpret this message''" " Merely—as to myself —that, she wishes politely to -,varn me against calling .upon her here . . . at . . .it may be, an inconvenient season." "And . . .as to herself?" " Either that she is- utterly ignorant of Ralph Merrick and all his works, or that•she is a past mistress of diplomacy and deception. And you?"' . " Ayiee with yen; with the addition that Madam, for sonic reason, would like to keep' in touch with yourself." "And why?" " For one of two reasons ; Madam—the Madam ignorant or Meyrick, may have been lioneitly attracted by your many graces of mind and percsn." . " Thanks !" . "Or . . . she may have detected the sinister nature of your precious attentions, and prefers to know, in the language of your friend and aides-de-camp, Kenyon; "what your'e getting at.'" I slnugg-ed my answer. It was useless, I saw, at this moment, to attempt to get from Rnyston Craig his real opinion of Madam Barlhelme ; and, soon after, I dispatched a- polite but- vague, note to the lady, ending it thus : " Our return is uncertain; but a fortnight, I trust, will see us"—meaning Craig and myself—''back in London," etc., etc. " Later in the day I looked in on Mrs. Devereaux, and found that Enid had gone to make her first call on her friend, Mrs. Dovei field. '"Enid has left her card, and has seen Mr Doverfield a number of times since Ara's illness," said Enid's motheer. " But she has not seen her friend until to-day.' She met Dr. Bird yesterday, and. he told her she might see his patient, and that she would-.jbe the first one admitted and possibly the only one for a time." And then shs .told me of tie approaching departure of Madam and Monsieur for Wraylands.. "At first," she explained,, "until Enid made the situation clearer to ■ me, I did not favour this move, but of course we soon prevailed on my brother, who • had thought of going down there himself. And now I fancy, he thinks himself res ponsible for nearly the whole plan. They will , take possesion. Madam and her brother, the day a.fter to-morrow." " And—he talr.es Josephine?" Again Mrs. Devereaux laughed. " Josephine is absolutely indispensable to her." *

She pa us: :1; then ,;ts I rose to take my leave, she said—

"I suppes-e Enid has told you of her whin—the taking up of her pistol practice?" I rodded. " Absurd . .. . don't you think so?"

'Frankly I do not, Mrs. Devereaux." The fond mother was instantly alarmed. " There are limits," she said, " to the sacrifices one makes . . . even for such a brother as mine. Enid . .

Is your spoiled. daughter, w!i\m yor cau't control, even if you want to," 1 interrupted. " Ah, you are wrong, Ken." "If you insist, yes; she will drop ii all. Confess, Mrs. Devereaux; all this has taken Enid out of herself in that mom.;nt in her life -when most she needed distraction." " Quite true, bi.it "

"You were going to say lhat- Hal Landis is showing more sense now," Mrs. Oeverwuix nodded. " But don't you see, most tender-hearted of mothers',' that you can't allow an ardent, enthusiastic girl, as Enid is, to embark 011 :i course, anc tlitn expect to check or withdraw her at your will. It i:.n*t fair; it will upset her no end."

■" That's my difficulty, Ken, but " "Let her go on . .' . . the best thing. me."', -,; . " And ultimately Mrs. Devercaux reluctantly consented. I did not tell her that I had already been informed by Madam, of her intended flight to the country; and I did not mention my projected departure for Liverpool.. " on urgent business." That information was for Madam Barthelme alone. I lutd taken care to' state in my note that my friends in London, were not to be told of my going; but that I wished her to understand why it might not! be possible, etc.. etc. That evening I went with Craig to pay" my first visit to the sandwich man, who was still confined to his room, but with promise of release from the bandages in a week, perhaps in less time. l'h.9 doctor was taking his leave as we •entered the bare little room, and I was not slow to observe that between him and Craig a complete understanding existed ; and I guessed that the time when the invalid might go forth a free man would be determined, and agreed upon, between these two. My visit was brief, and I could see that it was not entirely agreeable to him. A weak man by nature, I judged him ; but even the brief glimpse I had of this pale and almost silent invalid convinced me that he had not always been a derelict. His speech, a combination of awkward attempts to seem illiterate, and forgetful lapses into smooth and correct English, his voice, all bespoke the one-time gentleman; and his soft and slender hands, well cared for still, were, for me, the final proof. Afid here, again, Craig showed a disinclination to express an opinion. " He is growing used to me," he said, as we walked homeward, " arid before long I believe he will confide in me of his own accord. I hope -so. Somehow, I do not care to speak first about—that solitaire, for instance." Still." I ventured, "it may be necessary." 'Xreds must,' and ' will.' You know the Faying; I'll act when the need must come, Ken," but he looked reluctant. It was late when we reached our quarters, but I found to my surprise that Br. liird had been waiting for me a full half hour. Craig had rTssed on to his own room, and as I c!o>ed the door my visitor began at once to talk. " Hello, my boy! You have arrived—finally. Good job, too, for I've outstayed my time. I've come with a message from Boverfkld ami from his wife's nurse, ami they . . . lie . . . wants to see you. What's mitre," meeting my <?ve sharply, " I want liim to. The man is sick and tired of that perpetual attitude of his servants—even the best of 'em. I' advised him to- send for you, and I offered to come • for you." •"To-night?" " Xo, no " —impatiently. " Bll+ in the morning, at ten o'clock, you will l>e expected ; and the nur.-e—you're nursewill meet ycu and take you directly to Mrs. Doverfield's room." "What! Is she . ' " 'Put, tut ! She's in bed still; saw her first' guest to-day, Enid Devereaux, a fine young woman that. Well, what are >ou staring at? You'll go—of course you'll go?" I assured liim that I would, wondering not a little. I was early the next morning at the door of the Doverfield mansion, having done some thinking in the meantime, and I .was. received by the nurse. She paused at the entrance to her mistress's room, and whispered, w'th significant, lifting of the eyebrows,. "This evening?" I nodded, and she opened the door, saying in an undertone to someone within, "Mi* .Th*™ r is' hare." From the further side of the room a heavy curtain was swept aside, giving me a glimpse of a tall Japanese screen beyomi. and Austin Doverfield, looking pale

and harassed, but frigid as usual, came to meet me. But the eyes that sought mine, and then shot a quick glance toward the now closed curtain, belied the passionless voice. He had sent for me, he said, to discuss with me the matter of the loss' of his wife's jewels, and—first, would I kindly be quite frank with him? Had I any real ground for believing that I could solve the mystery of their disappearance ? With my thoughts upon that heavy brocade curtain, I answered, "Do you wish a full report?" He shook his head vigorously; but he said, "Why, not in detail. To know of your success of failure' is all I desire. The police' have made known the arrest of that young man—a professional crimiii;'.l, I understond? They thought it looked 'ike his work—his methods?" " Yes." I had now made up my mind. " And I agreed with them, Mr. Doverfield. But—-well—l have had two or three interviews with him, and—l think I may say, with a fair degree of certainty, that Deegan did not steal your wife's jewels. Of. course, there are many professional burglars in London, and —my men are closely shadowing some of these; No iewels that answer to your discription have be offered at the pawnshops, or to the small dealers; I am quite sure of tlVlt." ! He nodded, and his eyes seemed to urge me to go on. I could not quite make him out. I looked at Austin Doverfield; then, -mce again at the, brocade curtain. "Of course," I said slowly, after some hesitation, "a search like this may last for a long time. It may resolve itself into 'i. matter of waiting and watching for the time when some of the gems shall be turned into money. Then" . . "Ah!" he held up his slim hand. "One .riiinnte, please." He vanished behind the curtain, from whence, as the last word left my lips, I had caught a, soft sound, half wail, half ejaculation, and the tinkling fall of shattered glass, of something small and light. He returned almost at once, and began to speak, quite rapidjy now. "Probably the doctor has.told you of ■thy wife's present condition, Mr JaSper; md how much dependsupon quiet and peace of mind—for her. The search for her jewels has harassed her mind, and—- [ fear, is retarding her recovery. The doctor commands -'-a complete change of scene, and I intend talcing her away —to the south coast, probably, ilhe lost jewels do not represent value to me, but simply my wife's adornments. She blames herself, quite needlessly, for the loss, and she may, and doubtless will,> urge the continued search."

"Naturally," I murmured—"a collection like that." " Quite so. Still, I sent for you this morning to ask you to give the whole matter up—at least, for a time, the time of our absence l . Drop it completely, please. For myself, I should be very grateful; and while Mi's. Doverfield may be disappointed at first, we' believe that when- once' she can bring herself to give 'ip the hope of soon regaining her jewels she may be able to fcirget the whole episode. The jewels are of far less value :han her future health and comfort." My role, as I saw it more and more clearly, was to say little, and to acjuiest e ; so I promptly answered : " Oriinarily, Mr Doverfield—l niay as well be frank—your request would come in ".he nature of a blow; a shock to my professional amour propre; but now," 'lere I drew my chair close to him, " and there are mitigating . circumstances; a nan who is known to you. but whose name, of course, -I must, withhold, is., I fear, in actual personal danger—is being :hadowed, persecuted, I might say— whether for purposes or mere- blackmail, of for something yet more, serious, we cannot juess. Both my ..partner and myself are • tudying the case, and. to be quite candid. these two cases—yours and this otlierbid fair to clash at any moment. Besides, I ought, in pursuit of/this affair, to leave town for. a, time; here I rose and looked at my '"watch, " this request *>f yours come in the -nature of a relief. Of course, I shall be at your service later, if you desire it." Someone- tapped on the outer door, and the doctor entered, starting at sight of me in well-acted surprise. " Hello, Jasper! What's this? Have you been letting him see 'our patient, Doverfield? I can't have it. I told the nurse to admit no one."

Of course Mr Doverfield testified in my behalf, and I took my leave, but in the movement occasioned by the entrance of the nurse and Mrs. Doverfield's maid, both summoned by Dr. Bird, the latter found the opportunity to whisper in my :ar. "Wait below," he said; and presently, while I sat in the library, the nurse, carrying an empty jug, looked in. held up a slip of paper, and, dropping it, w ( ent her way. • . , The bit of , paper contained a single pencilled line, and was signed " Doverfield."

It said, " I will follow you to your chambers."

" Send away your cab," said the doctor, when he came down to me. " I'll drive you home." . ■ "I want to explain, to ydu>" he began, when we were in his. coupe. " You had your talk with Doverfield, all right?" I nodded, and lie. went on quickly. "Fact is, it .was I who advised him to take this step; and I'm bound to admit that I'm coming round to your view of some things—about Ara Doverfield. Mind, t don't, and won't believe in a' guilty knowledge, or motive; but . . . . I could not be with her in her rooms of deliiium, without drawing conclusions. And I feel bound, now, to tell you . on one condition." He turned and looked me sharply in the face "Name it" " That when you learn the truth, you .will, warn me before you make it known to others." "I .have already given a similar promise to—another." I met his kindly, regretful eye, and - added: " to your patient, in fact." " Ah ! She knows then, that- you have suspected . . . her?" " She does." "Do you know that she fears, I almost said . . . hates you ?" " I can quite believe it." " But she ; also respects —and for somo reason, trusts you." " Thank you," Doctor. I wish you too would trust me . . .a little longer. I may tell you thi»s much; things' are very 'warm' at this moment, and I hope the affair may culminate soon, raid happily. I have all tilt- cards in my hand. sxcrpt on-:-, but tha.t one is the ace of trump?, inid I must have it before I soy a.woid. Still—if you know why Austin Dnverfield sent for me,' you must know that the arnme for the present- at lenst, is blocked?" I turned. squarely towards him. " Was it because of Mrs. Doverfield tlmt vou advised this?" " I did not merely advise. Listen. This it a professinnai confidence." I nodded, and hj? hastened on. " I have seen, more and more. a« tlx' days passed, 'that- AraDoverfield's illness was altogether the outcome of the shock, and was being heightened and lengthened by an additional metal trouble. Tt was dreid or fear, or both, and you were concerned with it. Sh-e would-- flush and her heart would palpitate at tlie< mere mention of your name; yet she herself would introduce it, when rational ; and it was constantly on her lips when delirious. Yon two. must- have had. at least, one exalting interview ?" "Yes," I replied quietly. "Two days ago she sent away lier maid ;| nd the nurse, and ;isked nif to sit beside her. quite close" T will not. repeat her words, I couldn't, but this was their purport. She is sensitively anxious for her

husband's good opinion, and slie fears, constantly, that in spite of his assertions in the contrary, he feels that she was ' worse than cureless' in exposing her jewels; sometimes, she even fancies that he may grow into the belief that she plotted—planned, to lose them." The loyal soul. How carefully he conj sidered and chose his words in speaking of his beautiful and beloved patient. I felt that I would do much for this chivalrous old doctor. ; " She has a fear,' he went on, "that in some manner you will suggest that idea to her husband." " Suggest!" "It was her word ; and the- poor proud, little woman must have reached the last stage of mental distress before she couldbring- herself to ask of me this favour, with its accompaniment of secrecy. She feverishly besought me to promise that-, whatever my verdict. I would never spvak lo her husband of this interview. A le-s ingenuous woman would have effectually bridled my tongue by saying 'to any on? !'—but he is every one to her." "Yes?" " She then confessed to me that she could not- rest, nor grow strong with so much anxiety always on her mind; that if she was ever to get up and be well, and keep her senses, she must have mental relief from the constant strain, the . . As he paused I bent towards him. "Doctor, wait! I want her word, not you translation, but the very word she used. Was it not . . . what it was ?" " I think you know. It was . suspenc-e." I nodded. "She wished, me to speaJs to Austin " lie' added. "And to ask him to stop all further investigation; giving, if necessary, your commands, as her physician?" It was the doctor's turn to nod. " And it was by your advice that we met-, her husband and I, in her morning room, and within her hearing?" " You are wrong there. It was he who suggested that." I pondered. Then—" Perhaps, though, this was your suggestion?" and I held up Doverfield's little twisted note. " No," he answered. " What is it?" I held the, note towards him. "Read it," I said. "We must work together, doctor." s ! "I'm sorry," he said in a grave voice. He was pale, as lie put the note back into my hand. " Then he does suspect—or doubt her. Have you ever thought it?" "Thought what?" " That Austin Doverfield doubted his wife?"

"Never." Then, by the afterthought, "Have you?" I saw his hand clench and unclench itself. Then at- last, "Yes, I have fancied it, once or twice." "And—when?" I was very eager now.

"Never when she was conscious. He was always gentle, soothing, even tender towards her;, and seemingly indifferent to the matter of the jewels. It was once or twice during her times of delirious ravings that he let his face betray him." The doctor looked down at the- slip of paper in my hand. " I wonder . .

lie began. "Don't," I remonstrated. "We Khali soon know." We were at my chambers now, and smiling somewhat ruefully, the doctor drove away. My thoughts wove strange fancies, as they dwelt upon the singular new attitude of the Dcverfields. Ever since- my first meeting with Mrs. Doverfield I; had been veering to and fro between two ! opinions; but- I had never doubted that 'she was -withholding from all concerned some vital fact, for lack of which -we .still floundered aimlessly and in the dark. And now, could it be possib'e that sin? knew that the fact of the existence of both falsa and real gems was known to me? Did she, perhaps .even know that the rail- gems had cf&nged hands?

."How absurd," I exclaimed aloud .-in my impatience. And then a slow and martial tread brought me back -to my senses, and Austin Doverfield came in, bowed stiffly, and waved away the chair I; proffered him. (To b.; Continued.)- •