THE DUCHESS OF DATCHET'S DIAMONDS

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XX, Issue XXIII, 4 June 1898, Page 703

THE DUCHESS OF DATCHET'S DIAMONDS

- BY

RICHARD MARSH

Of’THE CRIME & THE CniMINAI," ETC.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Miss Daisy Strong, while walking on the Brighton Pier with Mr Lawrence, a young gentleman, ‘introduced to ner by a shower of rain and the otter of his umbrella,’ meets her lover, Mr Cyril Paxton, who is inclined to resent finding her without her chaperon, Miss Wentworth, alone in the company of a man of whom she really knows nothing. In later conversation Mr Paxton informs Miss Strong that he has made a wild speculation on the Stock Exchange, which must ruin him if the shares fall. Miss Strong, who has all along disapproved of his punting on the Exchange, tellshim that if this speculation fails they must be nothing more to each other. He reluctantly accepts her reluctant decision, and they part for the time being.

Mr Paxton’s speculation fails and he goes down to Brighton to bid Miss Strong farewell for ever. In the train he reads the newspaper account of the amazing robbery of the Duchess of Datchet’s priceless diamonds. Presently, peeping through the plate glass near the roof, he sees, in the next compartment, Mr Lawrence, whom he had met with Daisy Strong on the Brighton Pier on the previous day. He plays the eavesdropper, and is uterly astounded to learn from the conversation which takes place between Mr Lawrence and his companion—a German-American —that the former is the robber of the Duchess’ diamonds. Mr Paxton hears every word of Mr Lawrence’s minute account of the ingenious way he committed the seemingly impossible robbery. On arriving at Brighton, Mr Paxton, by the merest accident, gets hold of Mr Lawrence’s Gladstone bag instead of his own. He does not discover his mistake until he opens the bag in his bedroom and finds diamond bracelets, rings, tiaras, etc., packed away among the' shirts. After a good deal of bewilderment, ne understands that he has got hold of the Duchess’ stolen diamonds, which Lawrence, the thief, and placed in his Gladstone bag. Mr Paxton, instead of giving up the diamonds to the police at once, reflects in how princely a fashion they would restore his fallen fortunes, dallies with his conscience, and eventually replaces the diamonds in the bag which he leaves locked in his room, and goes to keep his appointment with Strong. He leads Miss Strong, who has shown herself all sympathy and kindness tc him on account of the failure of his Stock Exchange speculation, to believe that he sees his way clearly to a fortune of a quarter of a million, though he has not yet allowed to himself that he means to annex the diamonds. Daisy says that whether he makes a fortune or not she thinks it would be best for them to marry since they love each other, and there is always her own little income to live upon. They settle to get married in a month, and go to tell the news to Miss Wentworth, Daisy’s chaperon, a clever lady journalist. Miss Wentworth, who does not like Mr Paxton, is somewhat rude to him. He, flying into an absurd passion about some innocentlymeant remark of hers about his sudden accession to a quarter of a million of money, says he will never darken her doors again and departs in wrath. Mr Paxton, when taxed by Lawrence with having got the latter’s bag, audaciously denies it. He also denies having any knowledge of the whereabouts of the Duchess’ diamonds to Mr Ireland, a detective, a friend of his. During the night two unsuccessful attempts are made by Lawrence or his confederate to force an entrance into Mr Paxton’s bedroom where they suppose the diamonds to be. Mr Paxton takes the diamonds to London and deposits them in one of the Chancery Lane Deposit Company s Safes which he has rented. On the way there he is followed by a man whom he only gets rid of by calling in the aid of a constable. When back at his hotel in Brighton, he reads in the newspaper that the shares of a certain gold mine in which he is interested have boomed so that if he sells out he will be the happy possessor of £lOO.OOO. As, wild with excitement occasioned by this news he hurries out to keep an appointment with Miss Daisy Strong, he is knocked down from behind, gagged and taken away in a cab. Miss Strong, while vainly waiting for Mr Paxton on Brighton Pier, is accosted by Mr Lawrence, who unexpectedly makes her an offer of marriage. which she straightway refuses. CHAPTER X. CYRIL’S FRIEND. Miss Strong did like to go and see. She looked at Miss Wentworth with a make-believe of anger, and, rising to her feet, went quickly across the room. Admission had already been given to the knocker. There advanced

towards the girl standing in the open door a man —who was not Mr Paxton. •Mr Franklyn! I thought ’ There was a note of disappointment in her voice. She stepped short, as if desirous not to allow her self-betrayal to go too far. She moved a little back, so as to allow the new comer to enter the room. This newcomer was a man of the medium height, about forty yeans of age. His black hair was already streaked with grey. He had a firm, clear-cut. clean-shaven mouth and chin, and a pair of penetrating greyblack eyes, with which he had a trick of looking everyone whom he addressed squarely in the face. His manner, ordinarily, was grave and deliberate, as if he liked to weigh each word he uttered. He held Miss Strong’s hand for a moment in his cool, close grasp. ‘Well, you thought what? ‘l’m very glad to see you—you know I am; but I thought it was Cyril.’ ‘Are you expecting him?’ ‘I was expecting him, but—it seems he hasn’t come.’ Turning to Miss Wentworth he greeted her. And it was to be noted that as she offered him her hand a humorous twinkle beamed through her glasses in her shrewd eyes, and her whole face was lighted by a smile. He turned again to Miss Strong. ‘Have you heard the news?’ ‘What news?’ ‘Hasn’t Cyril told you?’ ‘He told me something last night, but I really couldn’t tell you quite what it was he told me, and I haven’t seen him since.’ ‘He is in Brighton?’ ‘ls he? I was informed that he was stopping in town.’ ‘You were informed? By whom?’ ‘By an acquaintance, who said that he saw him there.’ Mr Franklyn waited before speaking again. His unflinching eyes seemed to be studying the lady’s face. Probably he saw that there was something unusual in her manner. ‘That is strange. I was under the impression that he was in Brighton. I have come from town specially to see him. I expected to find him with you here.’ ‘He did promise to meet me to-night. He hasn’t kept his promise. I don’t understand why. To be plain with you, it rather troubles me.’ ‘He promised to meet you?’ ‘He did most faithfully.’ ‘And you have received no intimatic n from him to the effect that he was not coming?’ ‘Not"a word—not a line!’ ‘Then he may be here at any moment. Something has delayed him You are acquainted with him sufficiently well to be aware that had anything occurred to cause him to alter his plans, he would immediately have let you know. Your informant was wrong. I have had inquiries made for him everywhere in town, and as a result have good reason to believe that he is in Brighton.* ‘What is the news of which you were speaking?’ ‘Has Cyril said nothing to you about the Trumpit Gold Mine? He referred to it casually the night before last in his usual strain, as having been the cause of his destruction.* ‘That is really extraordinary. I confess I do not understand it. It is so unlike Cyril to have communicated neither with you nor with me. Are you sure that he said nothing more?’ ‘About the Trumpit Gold Mine? Not a word. What was there, what is there to say? Do get it out!* The young lady made an impatient movement with her foot. The gentleman looked at her with amusement in his eyes. She was very well worth looking at just then. Her red-gold hair was a little out of order; and, though she might not have agreed

with such a statement, it suited her when it was slightly disarranged. Her eheeks were flushed. She held herself very straight. Perhaps it was her tears which had lent brightness to her eyes; they were bright. Her small, white teeth sparkled between her blush-rose lips, which were slightly parted as if in repressed excitement. She presented a pretty picture of a young lady who was in no mood for trifling. ‘I shall have much pleasure. Miss Strong, in getting it out. What seem to be well-founded rumours have reached England that gold has been found at last in considerable quantities. The shares have gone up with a rush. When the Stock Exchange closed this afternoon they were quoted at £l2 10/. A little more than a week ago they were unsaleable at twopence each.’ ‘£l2 10/! Oh. Mr Franklyn! And has Cyril got rid of his?’ ‘Not a bit of it. They are in my strong-box. There are ten thousand of them—Cyril is one of the largest holders, if he is not the largest; and what that means at £l2 10/ apiece you can calculate as well as I.’ •Oh, Mr Franklyn!’ The young lady brought her hands together with a little clap. She turned in natural triumph towards her friend. ‘What did 1 tell you? Now aren't you sorry for what you said last night? Didn't I say that you hadn't the faintest notion of what you were talking about ?’ Miss Wentworth, though, as was to be expected, not. so excited as the lady who was principally concerned, evinced sufficiently lively signs of interest. •You certainly did. and 1 certainly hadn’t; and while you left nothing unsaid which you ought to have said, there can be no sort of doubt whatever that I said everything which I ought to have left unsaid. But. at the same time. I do beg leave to remark that Mr Paxton need not have worn such an air of mystery.’ ‘Why?’ Miss Strong tapped the tpe of her slipper against the floor. ‘He wasn't compelled to blurt out his affairs to all the world.’ Miss Wentworth shrugged her shoulders. ‘Certainly not—if I am all the world. Are you also all the world? From what I gathered he did not. make much of a confidante of you.’ ‘Well, he wasn’t forced to!’ Suddenly Miss Strong made a wholly irrational, but not wholly unnatural, movement in the direction of Miss Wentworth’s chair. She placed her hand upon that lady’s shoulders. And she kissed her twice, first on the lips, then on the brow. And she exclaimed, ‘Never mind. I forgive you!’ Miss Wentworth was quite as demure as the occasion required. She surveyed her emotional friend with twinkling eyes. ‘Thank you very much indeed, my dear.’ Miss Strong moved restlessly about the room, passing, as it seemed, aimlessly from object to object. ‘lt is strange that he should have kept such news to himself! And not have said a word about it! And now not coming after all!’ She turned to Mr Franklyn. ‘I suppose that it is all quite true? That you have not been building up my hopes simply to dash them down again?’ ‘I have given you an accurate statement of the actual position of affairs when prices were made up for the day, as you may easily prove yourself by a reference to an evening paper.’ With her hands Miss Strong pushed back her hair from her temples. ‘After all he had lost in Eries ’ Mr Franklyn interposed a question. Tn Eries! Did he lose in Eries?’ ‘I am afraid he did, heavily. And then, in spite of that, on the same day, to see his way to a quarter of a million!’ ‘A quarter of a million! Did he mention that precise amount?’ ‘I think he did, I feel sure he did. Charlie, didn’t you hear him speak of a quarter of a million?’ Miss Wentworth, who from the depths of her easy chair had been regarding the two almost as if they had been studies of interesting, though contrasting, types of human nature, smiled as she replied—‘l believe that I did hear Mr Paxton make a passing and. as it seemed to me. a mysterious allusion to that, insignificant sum.’ ‘Then he must be acquainted with the movements of the markets.’ Mr Franklyn was the speaker. ‘Though I must tell you candidly. Miss Strong, that at present I am very far from being prepared to advise him to hold

until his profits reach what Miss Wentworth, in a truly liberal spirit, calls that insignificant sum. As things stand, he can get out with half of it. If he waits for more, he may get nothing. Indeed, it. is an almost vital necessity of the situation that 1 should see him at onee. The shares are in my keeping. Without his direct authority I can do nothing with them. After all. the boom may be but a bubble; it may already have been blown to a bursting-point; in the morning it may have been pricked. Such things are the commonplaces of the Stock Exchange. In any case, it is absolutely necessary that he should be on the spot, ready, if needful, to take prompt, instant advantage of the turn of the market in whatever direction it may be. Or. by the time that he does appear upon the scene, his shares may again be unsaleable at twopence apiece, and all his profits may have gone. Now. tell me. do you know where he stayed last night?’ ‘At Makell’s Hotel. He nearly always does stay there when he. is in Brighton.’ ‘lt is possible, then, that he is there now; or at any rate, that they have news of him. I will go at once and inquire.’ Miss Strong made a quick movement towards the speaker. ‘Mr Franklyn, mayn't I come with you?’ He hesitated. 'There is not the slightest necessity. If he is there 1 will bring him back with me; if he is not 1 will either bring or send you news.' ‘You promise?" T do—certainly.' ‘You promise that you will let me hear as soon as you can—at onee—without a moment's delay?' The girl put. her hand to her side. Tears came into her eyes. Air Franklyn, you don't know what all this means to me. All day long 1 have been conscious of something hanging over me. as it were, a cloud of catastrophe. That something very strange either has happened, or shortly will happen, I am convinced. It frightens me! So, if you wish to do me a kindness, you will not keep me in suspense one moment longer than you can help.’ Miss Strong had passed, so far as appearances went, instantly, without any sort of warning, from a white heat of excitement to almost preternatural coldness. One had only to look at her to perceive that her mind was not at ease; nor, since mental and physical conditions are. closely allied, her body either. Mr Franklyn proffered reassurance. ‘Believe me. Miss Strong, there is not the slightest real cause for anxiety. The probability is that Cyril is looking for me. just as I am looking for him; that, in fact, we are chasing each other. Anyhow, you shall have news when 1 have news, and that without a second's delay. I ought to find a cab upon the nearest stand. If I do, you ought to hear from me in thirty minutes. But even if I don’t, I think that I can promise that you shall hear from me within the hour.’ CHAPTER XI. JOHN IREIAND'S WARRANT. Mr Franklyn was unable to find a cab. He walked. And as he walked he wondered. Mr Paxton’s conduct seemed to him to be stranger than, in the presence of Miss Strong, he had cared to admit. It was unlike Cyril to have allowed so amazing a change to have taken place in a holding in which he was so largely interested, and yet to have held his peace. Mr Franklyn had made more considerable efforts to place himself in communication with Cyril than he had hinted at. There, had been several things lately in that gentleman’s conduct which had struck him as peculiar. But all his efforts had been vain. It was only by chance that that afternoon he had run across an acquaintance who informed him that lie, had just seen Mr Paxton leaving Victoria in a Brighton train. Taking it for granted that he was journeying towards Miss Strong, as soon as he could, Franklyn followed on his heels. And now Miss Strong had seen nothing of him! Indeed, she had been told that he intended to spend the night in town. Coupled with other circumstances, to Mr Franklyn the thing seemed distinctly odd. Arrived at Makell’s Hotel, he accosted the porter who held the door open for him to enter. ‘ls Mr Paxton staying here?’ ‘Mr Paxton is out.’

‘Out? Then he is staying here?’ ‘He has been here. I don’t know if he is returning. You had better inquire at the office.’ Mr Franklyn inquired. At the office their acquaintance with Mr Paxton’s movements did not appear to be much greater than the porter’s. He was out. He might return. He probably would. When, they could not say. ‘How long ago is it since he went out ?' ‘Something over an hour.’ ‘Did he say anything about where he was going to?’ ‘Not to me. I know nothing, it’s only what I surmise, but he went hurrying out as if he had an appointment which he wanted to keep.’ ‘An appointment? Something over an hour ago? Yes, he had an appointment about that time, but he never kept it.’ Franklyn looked at his watch. The thirty minutes of which he had spoken to Miss Strong were already nearly past. ‘Can I have a bed here to-night?’ The clerk said that he could. Franklyn took a card out of his poc-ket-book. he scribbled on it in pencil: ‘1 shall be at Medina Villas till eleven. Come at once. They ,are very anxious to have news of you.’ Securing it in an envelope, he handed it to the clerk, instructing him, should Mr Paxton return before he did, to let him have it at once. Then Franklyn left the hotel, meaning to walk to the cab rank, which was distant only a few yards, and then drive straight back to Medina A illas. As he walked along the broad pavement someone stopping him addressed him bv name. ‘ls that you. Mr Franklyn?’ The speaker was John Ireland. In his professional capacity as a solicitor Mr Franklyn had encountered the detective on more than one occacasion. There was no necessity for him to admit that the reply to Ireland’s inquiry was an affirmative one; Ireland was aware of it, without his admission. The detective’s next question took Mr Franklyn a little by surprise. ‘Where's Mr Paxton?’ Mr Franklyn looked at his questioner as attentively as the imperfect light would permit. To his trained ear there was something in the inquirer’s tone which was peculiar. ‘Mr Paxton! Why do you ask? Ireland seemed to hesitate. Then blurted out bluntly—‘Because I’ve a warrant for his arrest.’ Franklyn made a startled movement backwards. ‘His arrest! Ireland, you’re dreaming!’ ‘Am I? I’m not of a dreaming sort, as you ought to know by now. Look here, Mr Franklyn, you and I know each other. I know you’re Mr Paxton’s friend, but if you’ll take my advice, you won’t, for his sake, try to give him a lead away from us. You’ve ■just come out of Makell’s hotel. Is he there?’ Mr Franklyn answered, without pausing a moment for reflection. ‘He is not there. Nor did they seem to be able to tell me where he is. I’m quite as anxious to see him as you are.’ Ireland slapped his hand against his legs. ‘Then I’ll be hanged if I don't believe that he’s given us the slip. It’ll almost serve me right if he has. I ought to have had him without waiting for a warrant, but the responsibility was a bit bigger one than I cared to take. And now some of those pretty friends of his have given him the word, and he's away. If he’s clean away, and all because I shirked. I shall almost feel like doing time myself.’ When he spoke again Franklyn’s manner was caustic.

‘Since. Ireland, you appear to wish me to be a little unprofessional, perhaps you won’t mind being a little unprofessional, by way of a quid pro quo. Might I ask yon to tell me what is the offence which is specified on the warrant which you say you hold?’ ‘I don’t mind telling you. not the least. In the morning you’ll see it for yourself in all the papers—as large as life and twice as natural. Mr Paxton is wanted for the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet’s diamonds.’ If the other had struck him, Mr Franklyn could scarcely have seemed more startled.

‘The Duchess of Datchet’s diamonds! Ireland, are you mad or drunk?’ ‘Both, if you like. It’s as you choose. Mr Franklyn.’ Franklyn eyed the detective as if he

really thought that he might be mentally deranged. •Seriously, Ireland, you don’t mean to say that Mr Paxton—-Mr Cyril Paxton—the Cyril Paxton whom I know —is charged with complicity in the affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet’s diamonds?’ ‘Y'ou have hit it, Mr Franklvn, to a T.’ Regardless of the falling drizzle, Mr Franklyn took off his hat, as if to allow the air a chance to clear his brain. ‘But — the thing is too preposterous!—altogether too outrageous for credibility! You yourself must be aware that in the case of a man in Paxton’s position, such a step as that which you propose to take is likely to be fraught, for yourself, with the very gravest consequences. And I, on my part, can assure you that you are on the verge of making another of those blunders for which you police are famous. Who is the author of this incredibly monstrous charge?’ ‘Don’t vou trouble yourself about that, Mr Franklyn. People who bring monstrous charges will have to bear the brunt of them. But I tell you what I’ll do. You talk about being unprofessional. I’m willing to be a bit more unprofessional for the sake of a little flutter. I’ll bet you any reasonable sum you like, at evens, that when we do have him it’s proved that at any rate Mr Paxton knows where the duchess’ diamonds are.’ ‘You talk utter nonsense.’ ‘All right, put it so. Anyhow, I’m willing to back my talk. And I’m giving you a chance to back yours.’ ‘Let. me understand you. Do you say that you are willing to back your ability to prove that Mr Paxton has a guilty knowledge of the Datchet diamonds?’ ‘A guilty knowledge—that’s it: you keep on hitting it, and you’ve hit it again. I’m ready to lay an even hundred pounds—we may as well have something on worth having—that when we do get Mr Paxton its proved that he has. as you put it, a guilty knowledge of the whereabouts of the Datchet diamonds.’ ‘Such a supposition is wholly beyond the bounds of reason.’ ‘Will vou bet?’ ‘I will.’ • ‘Y’ou understand that I’m betting on a certainty; but since you seem to think that you’re betting on a certainty too. the thing’s about even. It’s a bet?’ ‘lt is.’ ‘Good! Perhaps you’ll make a note of it. I’ll make one too.’ As a matter of fact. Mr Ireland, taking out his pocket-book, made a note of it upon the spot. ‘When I’ve proved my point I’ll ask you for that hundred.’ ‘Say, rather, that when you’ve failed to prove it. I’ll ask you.’ ‘All right. And you shall have it, never you fear.’ Mr Ireland replaced his pocket-book. ‘Now I’m going to Makell’s to make a few inquiries on my own account. If those inquiries are not satisfactory. I’ll at once wire round Mr Paxton’s description. There’ll be a reward offered for him in the morning, and if we don’t have him within four-and-twenty hours, I’m a Dutchman.’ Franklyn, knowing his man. was more moved by Ireland’s words than he cared to show. ‘For goodness’ sake, Ireland, be care ful what you do. As you say. you know me. and you know that it is not my custom to express an opinion rashly. I assure you that it is my solemn conviction that if you take the steps which you speak of taking, you will be doing a possibly irreparable injury to a perfectly innocent man.’ The detective looked at the lawyer steadily for a second or two. ‘Quite right. Mr Franklyn, I do know you. and it is because I know you that I am willing to strain a point, and, without prejudice to that little bet of ours, give you proof that in matters of this sort a man of my experience is not likely to move without good grounds. Y’ou see this?’ Mr Ireland took something out of his waistcoat pocket. It was a ring. Slipping it on to the tip of his little finger, he held it up for the other to see. ‘I see that it’s a ring. What of it?’ ‘As Mr Paxton was coming out of Makell’s Hotel this morning he took his handkerchief out of his pocket. As he did so, unnoticed by him. something dropped out of his handkerchief on to the pavement. It was this ring.’ ‘Well?’ •Hl. I should call it, if I were you,

because this ring happens to be one of those which were stolen from the Duchess of Datchet. I had previously had reasons of my own for suspecting that he knew more than was good for him of that business; even you will grant that the discovery in his possession of one of the stolen articles was sufficient to turn suspicion into practical certainty.’ Mr Franklyn said nothing, perhaps because he had nothing to say which he felt was equal to the occasion. What Mr Ireland said astounded him. He perceived that, at any rate in Mr Paxton’s absence, the position presented the appearance of an aggravating puzzle. That Mr Paxton could, if he chose, furnish a satisfactory solution, he did not doubt. But he wondered what it was. The detective went on. ‘Now, Mr Franklvn, since I have been, as you yourself would say, unprofessionally open with you, I must ask you, on your side, to be equally open with me. What are you going to Franklyn reflected before replying. ‘I fail to see how you are entitled to ask me such a question; unless you suspect me also of being an accomplice in the crime. At any rate I decline to answer.’ ‘Very well. Mr Franklyn, I am sorry, but I must do my duty. I have reason to suspect that you may intend to aid and abet Mr Paxton in effecting his escape. To prevent your doing so is my obvious duty. Hollier!’ Mr Ireland beckoned to a man who had hitherto been loitering under the shadow of the houses. Mr Franklyn might or might not have noticed it, but during their conversation two or three other men had been hanging about within hailing distance in apparently similar purposeless fashion. The individual who had been signalled to approached. ‘Mr Franklyn. this is George Hollier, an officer of police. Hollier, this gentleman’s name is Franklyn. He’s a friend of Mr Paxton. I think it’s just possible that he will, if he can, give Mr Paxton a helping hand to get away. I order you to follow him, to observe his movements as closely as you may, and if he does anything which in your judgment looks like an attempt to place himself in communication with Mr Paxton, to arrest him on the spot. Y'ou understand?’ The man nodded. Mr Franklyn said nothing. He called a cab from the rank in front of them. As the vehicle drew up beside them Mr Ireland addressed the man upon the box. ‘Cabman, what’s your number?’ The cabman gave question for question. ‘lVhat do you want to know for?’ ‘l’m an officer of police. This gentleman wishes you to drive him somewhere. It is possible that I may require you to tell me where. You won’t lose by it; you needn’t be afraid.’ The driver gave his number. The detective noted it, as he had done his bet. He called a second cab, again addressing its Jehu. ‘Cabman, this man is an officer of police. He’s going to ride beside you on the box, and he wants you to keep the cab in which this gentleman is going to be a passenger well in sight. He'll see that you are properly paid for your trouble.’ As Mr Franklyn drove off he was almost tickled at the thought that he, a lawyer of blameless reputation, and of the highest standing, was being followed about the streets of Brighton by a policeman as if he had been a criminal. But all disposition towards amusement was banished by the further instant reflection that he had promised Miss Strong to bring her news of her lover. And he was bringing her news —of what a character! CHAPTER XII. A WOMAN ROUSED. Almost as soon as Yfr Franklyn touched the knocker of the house in Medina Y’illas, the door was opened from within, and he found himself confronted by Miss Strong. ‘Oh, Mr Franklyn, is it you at last?’ She saw that someone was standing at Mr Franklyn’s back, ‘Cyril!’ she cried. Then, perceiving her mistake, drew back. ‘I beg your pardon, I thought it was Mr Paxton.’ The man in the rear advanced. ‘ls Mr Paxton here?’ He turned to Yfr Franklyn. ‘Unless you want trouble, if he is here, you had better tell me.’ Mr Franklyn answered. ‘Mr Paxton is not here. If you like you may go in and look for yourself;

but if you are a wise man you will take my assurance as sufficient.’ Mr Hollier looked at Mr Franklyn, then at Miss Strong, then decided. ‘Yery well, sir. I don’t wish to make myself more disagreeable than I can help. I’ll take your word.’ Directly he was in the hall and the door was closed Miss Strong caught Mr Franklyn by the arm. He could feel that she was trembling, as she whispered, almost in his ear — ‘Mr Franklyn, what does that man want with Cyril?’ He drew her with him into the sit-ting-room. Conscious that he was about to play a principal part in a very delicate situation, he desired to take advantage of still another moment or two to enable him to collect his thoughts. Miss Wentworth, having relinquished her reading, was sitting up in her arm-chair, awaiting his arrival with an air of evident expectancy. He looked at Miss Strong. Her hand was pressed against her side; her head was thrown a little back; you could see the muscles working in her beautiful, rounded throat almost as plainly as you may see them working in the throat of a bird. For the moment Mr Franklyn was inclined to wish that Cyril Paxton had never been his friend. He was not a man who was easily unnerved, but as he saw the something which was in the young girl’s face, he found himself, for almost the first time in his life, at a loss for words. Miss Strong had to put her question a second time. ‘Mr Franklyn. what does that manwant with Cyril?’ When he did speak the lawyer found, somewhat to his surprise, that his throat seemed dry, and that his voice was husky. ‘Strictly speaking, I cannot say that the man wants Cyril at all. What he does want is to know if I am in communication with him.’ ‘Why should he want to know that?’ While he was seeking words, Miss Strong followed with another question. ‘But, tell me, have you seen. Cyril?’ ‘I have not. Though it seems he is in Brighton, or, rather, he was two hours ago.’ ‘Two hours ago? Then where is he now ?’ ‘That at present I cannot tell you. He left his hotel two hours ago, as was thought, to keep an appointment; it would almost seem as if he had been starting to keep the appointment which he had with you.’ ‘Two hours ago? Yes. I was waiting for him then. But he never came Why didn’t he? You know why he didn’t. Tell me!’ ‘The whole affair seems to be rather an odd one, though in all probability it amounts to nothing more than a case of cross-questions and crooked answers. What I have learned is little enough. If you will sit down I will tell you all there is to tell.’ Mr Franklyn advanced a chair towards Miss Strong with studied carelessness. She spurned the proffered support with something more than contempt. ‘I won’t sit down. How can I sit down when you have something to tell me? I can always listen best when I am standing.’ Putting- his hands behind his back, Mr Franklyn assumed what he possibly intended to be an air of parental authority. ‘See here, Miss Strong. You can, if you choose, be as sensible a young woman as I should care to see. If you so choose now, well and good. But I tell you plainly that on your showing the slightest symptom, of hysterics my lips will be closed, and you will not get another word out of me.’ If by his attempting to play the part of heavy father he had supposed that Miss Strong would immediately be brought into a state of subjection, he had seldom made a greater error. So far from having cowed her, he seemed to have fired all the blood in her veins. She drew herself up until she had increased her stature by at least an inch, and she addressed the man of law in a strain in which he probably had never been addressed before. ‘How dare you dictate how I am to receive any scraps of information which you mav condescend to dole out to me! You forget yourself. Cyril is to be my husband; you pretend to be his friend. If it is anything but pretence, and you are a gentleman, and a man of honour, you will see that it is your duty to with-

hold no tidings of my promised husband from his future wife. How I choose to receive those tidings is my affair; riot- yours.’ Certainly the lady’s slightly illogical indignation made her look supremely lovely. Mr Franklyn recognised this fact with a sensation which was both novel and curious. Even in that moment of perturbation, he told himself that it would never be his fate to have such a beautiful creature breathing ourning words for love of him. While he wondered what to answer. Miss Wentworth interposed, rising from her chair to do so. ‘Daisy is quite right, Mr Franklyn. Don’t play the game which the cat plays with the mouse by making lumbering attempts to, what is called, break it gently. If you have bad news, tell it out '.ike a man! You will find that the feminine is not necessarily far behin-l the masculine animal in fibre.’ Mr Franklyn looked from one young woman to the other, and felt himself ill-used. He had known them both for quite a tale of years; and yet he felt, somehow, as if he were becoming really acquainted with them for the first time now. ‘You misjudge me, Miss Strong, and you, Miss Wentworth, too. The difficulty which I feel is how to tell you, as we lawyers say, without prejudice, exactly what there is to tell. As 1 said, the situation is such an odd one. I must begin by asking you a question. Has cither of you heard of the affair of the robbery of the Duehess of Datchet’s diamonds?’ ‘The affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet’s diamonds?’ Miss Strong repeated his words, passipg her hand over her eyes, as if she did not understand. Miss Wentworth, however, made it quickly plain that she did. ‘I have; and so of course has Daisv. What of it?’ ‘This. An addle-headed detective, named John Ireland, has got hold of a wild idea that Cyril knows something about it.’ Miss Wentworth gave utterance to what sounded like a half-stifled exclamation. ‘I guessed as much! What an extraordinary thing! I had been reading about it just before Mr Paxton came in last night, and when he began talking in a mysterious way about his having made a quarter of a million at a single coup—precisely the amount at which the diamonds were valued—it set me thinking. I suppose I was a fool. Foi- Miss Wentworth’s quickness in guessing his meaning Mr Franklyn had been unprepared. If she, inspired solely by the evidence of her own intuitions, nad suspected Mr Paxton, what sort of case might not Mr Ireland have against him? But Miss Strong’s sense of perception was, apparently, not so keen. She looked at her companions as a person might look who is groping for the key of a riddle. ‘I daresay i am stupid. I did read something about some diamonds being stolen. But—what has that to do with Cyril T Mr Franklyn glanced at Miss Wentworth as if he thought that she might answer. But she refrained. He had to speak. ‘ln all probability the whole affair is a blunder of Ireland’s.’ ‘lreland? Who is Ireland?’ ‘John Ireland is a Scotland Yard detective, and, like ail such gentry, quick to jump at erroneous conclusions.’ They saw that Miss Strong made a little convulsive movement, with her hands. She clenched her fists. She spoke in a low, clear, even tone of voice. ‘I see. And does John Ireland think that Cyril Paxton stole the Datchet diamonds?’ ‘I fancy that he hardly goes so far as that. from what I was able to gather, he merely suspects him of being acquainted with their present W’hereabouts.’ Although Miss Strong did not raise her voice, it rang with scorn. ‘I see. He merely suspects him of that. What self-restraint he shows! And is that John Ireland on the doorstep?’ ‘That is a man named Hollier, whom John Ireland was good enough, to commission to Keep an eye on me. ‘Why on you? Does he suspect you also!?’ . Mr Franklyn shrugged his shoulders. ‘He knows that I am Cyril’s friend. ‘And all Cyrii’s friends are to be watched and spied upon? I see. Ana

is Cyril arrested? Is he in prison? Is that the meaning of his absence?’ ‘Not a bit of it. He seems, temporarily, to have disappeared.’ ‘And when he reappears I suppose John Ireland will arrest him?’ ‘Candidly, Miss Strong, I fear he will.’ ‘There is something else you fear. And which you fear, too!* Miss Strong <wvung round towards Miss Wentworth with an imperious gesture. Her rage, despite it being tinged with melodrama, was in its way sublime. The young lady’s astonishing intensity so carried away her hearers that they probably omitted to notice that there w'as any connection between her words and manner and the words and manner of, say, the transpontine drama. ‘You fear, both of you, that what John Ireland suspects is true. You feel that Cyril Paxton, the man I love, who would not suffer himself to come into contact with dishonour, whose shoestrings you are neither of you worthy to unloose —-you fear that he may have soiled his hands writh sordid crime. I see your fear branded on your faces —looking from your eyes. You cravens! You cowards! You unutterable things! To dare so to prejudge a man, who, as yet, has had no opportunity to know even what it is with which you charge him!’ Suddenly Miss Strong devoted her particular attention to Miss Wentworth. She pointed her words with a force and a directness which ensured their striking home. ‘As for you, now I know what it was you meant last night; what, it was which in your heart you accused him of, but which your tongue did not dare to quite bring itself to utter. And you have pretended to be my friend, and yet. you are so swift to seek to kill that which you know is dearer than life to the man whom I love and hold in honour. Since your friendship is plainly more dangerous than your enmity, in the future we’ll be enemies, openly, and avowedly, for never again I’ll call you friend of mine!’ Miss Wentworth moved forward, exclaiming— ‘Daisy!’ But Miss Strong moved back. ‘Don’t speak to me! Don’t come near to me! If you touch me, woman though I am, and woman though you are, I will strike you!’ Since Miss Strong seemed to mean exactly what she said. Miss Wentworth, deeming, under certain given circumstances, discretion to be the better part of valour, held her peace. Miss Strong-, having annihilated Miss Wentworth, one could but hope to her entire satisfaction, redirected her attention to the gentleman. ‘And you pretended to be Cyril’s friend! Heaven indeed preserve us from our friends, it is they who strike the bitterest blows! This only I will say to you. You have the courage of your opinions when there’s no courage wanted, but were Cyril Paxton this moment to enter the room you would no more dare to hint to him what you have dared to hint to me, than you would dare to fly.’ Then, recollecting' herself, with exquisite sarcasm Miss Strong apologised for having confused her meaning.. ‘I beg your pardon, Mr Franklyn, a thousand times. I said exactly the contrary of what 1 wished to say. Of course, if Cyril did enter the room, there is only one thing which you would dare to do, dare to fly. I leave you alone together, in the complete assurance that I am leaving you to enjoy the perfect communion of two equal minds.’ Miss Strong moved towards the door. Mr Franklyn interposed. ‘One moment. Miss Strong. Where are you going?’ ‘To look for Cyril. Do you object? I will try to induce him not to hurt you. when I find him.’ ‘You understand that you will have to endure the ignominy of having the man outside following you wherever you may go.’ ‘lgnominy, you call it! Why, the man may actually be to me as a protection from my friends.’ ‘You use hard words. I enter into your feelings sufficiently to understand that, from your own point of view, they may not seem to be unjustified. But at the same time 1 am sufficiently your friend, and Cyril's friend, to decline to allow you, if 1 can help it, to throw dust, in your own eyes. That Cyril has been guilty of actual theft, I do not for a moment believe. That he may have perpetrated some egregious blunder, I fear is

possible. I know him probably as well as you do. I know John Ireland, too, and I am persuaded that he would not bring a charge of this kind without having good grounds to go upon. Indeed, I may tell you plainly—slurring over the truth will do no good to anyone—Cyril is known to have been in actual possession of one of the missing jewels.’ ‘I don’t believe it.’ ■Rest assured you will do good neither to Cyril's cause nor to your own by a refusal to give credence to actual facts. It is only facts which a judge and jury can be induced to act upon. Satisfactorily explain them if you can, but do not suppose that you will be able to impress other people with the merits of your cause by declining to believe in their existence. I do entreat you to be advised by ine before, by some rash, if well-meaning act, you do incalculablemischief to Cyril and yourself.’ ‘Thank you, Mr Franklyn. but one does not always wish to be advised even by one’s legal adviser. Just now I should be obliged by your confining yourself to answering questions. Perhaps you will be so good as to tell me where I am most likely to find John Ireland, that immaculate policeman?’ ‘When I left him he was just going to Makell’s Hotel to make inquiries as to Cyril’s whereabouts upon his own account.’ 'Then I will go to Makell’s Hotel to make inquiries of John Ireland upon my account.’ Tn that case you must excuse me if I come with you. I warn you again, that if you are not careful you may do Cyril more mischief than you have any notion of.’ T shall come too.’ This w-as Miss Wentworth. Miss Strong bowed. ‘lf you will, you will. Evidently the man on the doorstep is not likely to serve me as an adequate protection against my friends.’ Miss Strong put on her hat and mackintosh in what was probably one of the shortest times on record. Miss Wentworth generally dressed more quieklv than her friend; on such an occasion she was not likely to be left behind. The curious procession of three passed through the door and down the steps in Indian file, Miss Strong first, Mr Franklyn la'st. At the bottom of the steps stood Mr Hollier. The leader looked him up and down. ‘ls your name Hollier?’ The man touched his hat. ‘That’s my name, miss.’ ‘I am Daisy Strong, Mr Cyril Paxton’s promised wife.’ She seemed on a sudden to be fond of advertising the fact. ‘1 am going to look for Mr Paxton now. You may, if you choose, play the part of spy, and follow me; but let me tell you that if he comes to harm through you, or through any of your associates, there’ll be trouble.' ‘I see, miss.’ Mr Hollier grinned, hurting, as it seemed, the lady’s sense of dignity. ‘I don't know what you see to smile at. A woman has given a man sufficient cause for tears before to-day. You may find, in your own case, that she will again.’ (To be Continued.)