The Awakening of Theodore Wrenn,

Wairarapa Daily Times, 21 February 1935, Page 7

The Awakening of Theodore Wrenn,

(COPYRIGHT.) PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY JAMES RONALD, (Author of The Secret of Hunter's Keep," ‘-The White Card," The Monoeled Man," etc.)

CHAPTER IV— Continued.

"No, gave me," she reproved him. "I am quite clear on that point. He most certainly gave it to me." Theodore coughed. "Sir Anthony assured me that the pearls were a loan," he said. Her green eyes challenged him. "You will have difficulty in proving that." "I trust that proof will not bo necessary," lie parried. "Surely wo can come to an understanding?" She shrugged her slim shoulders. "Any understanding which will enable me to keep the pearls will be entirely satisfactory to me." At that moment, there was a discreet tap on the door, and the maid entered, holding a slim envelope in her hand. "A young man from Snaith’s, mam’sclle," she murmured. "He wishes to see you." The actress shot a swift glance at Theodore, then looked angrily at her maid.

"Tell him that I am engaged,” she snapped. The girl made a little moue. "He is very insistent, mam’sellc." Snaith’s! Theodore was racking his brain to discover where he had heard the name before. Of course! —Snaith was the name of a famous Bond-st. jeweller. The actress tapped her foot impatiently. "Tell him that I will write to his firm this afternoon."

The maid withdrew, and Miss Marquis turned to Theodore with a little smile.

"Maids are such stupid creatures!" she exclaimed. "Please continue, Mr— Mr—” she looked at his card—" Mr. Wrenn. You were speaking of my pearl necklace."

"We were speaking of the necklace which Sir Anthony lent you," retorted Theodore firmly. The actress laughed. "Oh dear, what a provoking man you arc! I’ve told you several times that Sir Anthony gave me the necklace." Theodore looked straight at those green eyes of hers. "The necklace is not Sir Anthony’s to give. It is an heirloom." "lloav awkward! ’’ she exclaimed. "For Sir Anthony, I mean." "You realise, of course," said Theodore, "that the law would force you to return the pearls?" Her eyes assumed a guileless, naive expression.

"Oh! Would you really drag me into a horrid, musty court?" "If necessary."

She laughed again. "How perfectly charming of you, Mr Wrenn! Nothing would please me more. The case would be the sensation of the year. The papers would bo full of it. An actress lives on publicity, you know. I should be offered simply stupendous contracts. And these passionate letters Sir Anthony wrote me! I had considered using them eventually in my autobiography, but, of course, it would be much more effective to have my lawyer read them out in court." Theodore began to realise that it would be necessary to lay his cards upon the table. "How much?" he said brusquely. She stared at him.

“Oh, Mr Wrenn, lioav hlunt you are?” she protested. “I thought that lawyers used finesse in these matters.”

‘ ‘ I am prepared to offer you five hundred pounds for the immediate return of the pearls and Sir Anthony’s letters.”

“Five hundred pounds!” she laughed. “My dear Mr Wrenn, I value the pearls and the letters at five thousand pounds.” He rose to his feet.

“Then there is no more to he said,” he replied. ‘‘ My client is not prepared to pay that sum. It will be necessary for him to sue for the return of the pearls. You will get your publicity, Miss Marquis, but you rvill forfeit the sum my client would have paid to keep the matter out of court. Good morning.”

Ho turned to the door, but her voice, clear and cold, arrested him. “Please don’t go so soon. Won’t you sit down again, and tell me just what your client is prepared to pay? Please don’t mention five hundred pounds again. The sum is too ridiculous. ’ ’

Theodore faced her again, but remained standing. “The sum you suggested is quite as ridiculous,” he replied. “Suppose we say a thousand pounds?” “Two tliosand,” she retorted. He reflected a moment. “Shall avg compromise on fifteen hundred?” The actress shrugged her shoulders. “I hate quibbling. Very well, fifteen hundred let it be. But I shall want the money to-day. ’ ’ Theodore thought for a moment. His bank balance w r as slightly over five hundred pounds (it would have been less, only he had recently sold certain shares) and his cousin had gone down to Somerset early that morning. It would probably take a day at least to raise the other thousand.

“I am afraid I cannot pay you the entire sum to-day,” he replied. “If you will let me have the pearls and letters, I am prepared to give you a cheque for five hundred pounds at once, and a written promise to pay the balance within forty-eight hours.” She shook her head.

“Oh no, my friend. You will receive the pearls and tho letters when you pay in full; not before.” “'Very well; we can do nothing until to-morrow, in that case.” “But I need money to-day!” she protested. “I cannot pay you a penny,” ho replied, “without the security of both pearls and letters. After all, Miss Marquis, I have no wash to offend you, bul- if you were so inclined you might quite easily cash my cheque for five hundred pounds, and refuse, afterwards to part with the pearls. On the other hand, my written promise to pay the balance, which is backed both by my firm and Sir Anthony Ravenal, is as good as money in the bank.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “Very well,” she said. “Write out your cheque, and the agreement.” He sat down at a w r riting-desk in a corner of the room, and wrote busily for a few minutes. Then he rose, waving the two pieces of paper, to dry the 'ink upon them.

(To be Onntinued).

The actress took them, glanced at what lie had written, and nodded her head in a satisfied manner. She opened a drawer in the desk, and produced a jewel-case, which she opened to show him that the necklace was inside, and a bundle of letters.

Theodore was familiar with the appearance of the Ravenal pearls, and a quick scrutiny convinced him that this was the heirloom. He counted the letters, and found that their number was complete. It was a shock to one of his meticulous carefulness that the actress had kept so valuable an heirloom as the Ravenal pearls in an unlocked drawer. A pretty mess would have resulted had it been stolen while in her possession! Diana Marquis rang for her maid to show him out, and they parted amicably-

On the way out, Theodore turned to the maid.

"Your mistress is very careless," he remarked. •>

The girl stared at him. "M’sieu?" "I mean, that she is careless with valuable things. ’ ’ The girl rolled her eyes. "Non, non, Mi’sieu, sho is not cairless with so much as a farthing! She is more cairful than anyone I have evair known! Every time sho takes off as much as a leetle ring, she puts it away in a secret place which even I do not know. Sho is not cairless! Mon Dieu, non." Here was food for sober reflection! Theodore was buried in thought on the journey by taxi from Mayfair to Chancery Lane. Why had the actress, so careful with even a "leetle" ring, been so careless with a necklace worth ten or twelve thousand pounds? She must have known of its value, of course.

Then he remembered the "young man from Snaith’s" who had called on the actress that morning, and had been, according to the maid, so very insistent. What could the young man have been so insistent about, if not an unpaid account? That would be the thin envelope which the maid had held in her hand when she announced the caller.

Still, he could see no connection between an unpaid jeweller’s account, and the actress’s strange carelessness with a valuable necklace.

Suddenly, he put on his hat and went out. His uneasiness demanded action. He took a taxi to Snaith’s, in Bondst.

At the jeweller's, he presented his professional card, and asked to see the manager. The name Gentry, Green and Gentry was still a respected one, and gained him immediate entry to the manager’s office, where a grave-faced elderly man received him.

Theodore placed the necklace on the desk.

"I want you to examine these pearls, and give me your opinion of them."

The manager put a jeweller’s glass in his eye, and inspected the necklace closely. When he looked up, his face avore a curious expression. “In the first place,” he replied slowly, “these are not pearls, but excellent imitations.” Theodore felt dizzy. “Are you quite certain?” he dc-> manded.

“Quite certain,” responded the other dryly. “We made this necklace ourselves, copying it- from a. string of very perfect genuine pearls. The imitation is excellent. It would take an expert to tell that this string is not genuine. ’ ’

“Do you mind telling me,” said Theodore, “whether you have been paid for making this—this imitation?” The manager coughed dryly. “We were beginning to be alarmed about our account,” he replied. “But the lady sent her maid witli a cheque half an hour ago.” CHAPTER V. It Avas in a state of considerable perturbation that Theodore Wrenn sat in his office that afternoon. His luncheon hour had passed by unnoticed. On his desk lay the string of imitation pearls, and in a secret hiding place in Diana Marquis’s flat reposed tho genuine Ravenal pearls, worth probably twelve thousand pounds. It was evident that she had no intention of giving them up, otherwise she would not have gone to the expense of having imitations made. But for her careless handling of what was supposed to be a valuable heirloom, Theodore would certainly have handed the fakes in good faith to his cousin who, equally unsuspecting, would have placed them in the vault of his bank, among other family treasures. If they were ever discovered to be false, it would not have been for many years, possibly not until the death of Sir Anthony. The imitations rvere good enough to dccoWe any but expert eves. With Theodore's promise to pay one thousand pounds “for value received” in her hands, the actress Avould certainly insist on her pound of flesh (she had already cashed his cheque for five hundred pounds). And, just as certainly, she Avouhl not part Avith the pearls, Avhieh Avas her part of the bargain.

It Avas natural that Theodore should first consider the recovery of the pearls by legal means, but that solution he set aside, ns a last resort. A court of IaAV Avould certainly order the actress to return the necklace, but a tremendous amount of publicity Avould ensue, which Avas the last tiling Sir Anthony Avanted. Diana Marquis knew - this, of course, which gnA-e her a considerable advantage.