The Lady and the Diamond

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIX, Issue 17, 23 April 1913, Page 52

The Lady and the Diamond

How a Kindly Fraud was Exposed.

~T OHN CLAYTON looked up with a r->. I half frown as the office boy came j| in again. It had been a morning of interruptions. “loii’re wanted at the telephone, sir,” said the boy apologetically. "Nothing Hawford could answer, Masters ”

“No, sir. It’s your girl, sir!” "See here— ” began his employer angrily, but stopped with a smile. "You mustn’t say" that. Do you know the name of the lady who telephoned?” “Yessir.”

“Then use it!” said .John -Clayton as he left the room. All traces of irritation had vanished as he picked up the receiver.

"les, it is I—Oh. Alice. I was just thinking of yon. No, of course there is nothing odd in that—the odd thing is that you should telephone just as I was going to. Nothing queer about that, either? Alice, what would you think was out of the common run? That I shouldn’t be thinking of you. I believe you are right, but that is an impossibility. No, I didn’t quite catch—Oh, yes, I’ll foe up to-night—No, couldn’t possibly manage it this afternoon—Of course, I want to, but Heywood’s to be here —Yes, the manager of our South Island -branch. No —No—'Wait a moment. I haven’t told you what I wanted to. Father has given me that ring I spoke to you about of mother’s. Yes, wants you to have it, and wear it—you captivated the old gentleman that night. You liked him? Of course, he is just like his gon. Nicer? Not a bit of it—wait till I am his age!—Yes, it’s a beauty. And the one you have? Oh, anything you like. Yes, I’ll bring it to-night? Before? Why, yes, of course I can manage it. I'll send Hawford with it. Yes, oh, yes—till to-night then. Good-bye! ” Going back to his room lie unlocked a drawer of his desk, and took out a package. Then from its many wrappings he drew forth a diamond ring. The setting was old-fashioned, but the diamond!. He knew little about jewels, but he would have been a dullard indeed who could not have seen the beauty in its glowing depths. And Alice? She was right to want to see it before night —another day’s pleasure for her. Then he sank into a reverie, which a young successful business man, flanked by a wealthy father, may at times permit himself.

The impish face of Joe Masters, the office boy, brought him rudely back to earth.

“Someone at the ’phone again, sir?” Hastily picking up the diamond, he went to the telephone, and picked qp. the receiver. “No,” he said, “this is not Hawford. Clayton—John. Clayton. That was the name you were to ask for I thought you said .Hawford—Oh, I see —And he’s wanted at once—lt’s all right? Very good. I’ll tell him at once.”

He remembered now that Hawford had seemed ill at ease for a day or so, but he’d be all right now. And by Jove, he'd tell him to take a few days off and watch that baby grow. It must be strange and yet a pleasant thing, he reflected, to have an unknown little kid arrive and settle clown with you.

“Hawford,” he said, coming up behind him, as he sat writing at a desk strewn with papers. The man started nervously, blotting the -page. “Excuse me, Mr. Clayton. I'm a bit upset.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve just heard. It's all right. What’s the matter with you man?”

The clerk put his hands over his face for a moment. It was a homely face, but when he removed his hands. John Clayton, noticed a light as of beauty upon it, and the eyes—he had certainly never thought them beautiful before—were glowing, deepening, full of tears. “Might I ?” “Of course you may. Stay a few days and watch .that marvellous youngster grow.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?” •T nevgr io ask, and whoever

it was didn’t say. It’s too bad. However, there'll be all the bigger surprise at home. I hope it’s a fine boy!”

“What matter?” said Hawford, the light still on his faee. It was only after he had gone that John Clayton remembered the diamond.

“And he might just as well have taken it,” he thought. “But no, it would have been cruel to delay the poor fellow a minute. If Heywood comes early perhaps I can find time myself.” Heywood didn't come early, however. Instead a message arrived: “Will come at earliest possible moment. Be sure and w'ait.”

With an ill-grace he waited, considering that it was the one thing to do, yet with stern inward rebellion at doing it. “I have it,” he thought joyfully:, at last. “I'll send it by Masters when the little beggar goes to lunch!’Y At a little before 12 he said to the boy: “Masters, I’d like you to take a package up to St. Stephen’s Avenue, No. 32.” “Miss Payne’s!” said the boy promptly. ‘Wes. I see you do know the name. I’ll write a note, and you’re to be careful, very careful, for the— —contents are valuable.” It would not have been easy to have said “a diamond ring” with the frecklefaced imp’s knowing eyes fixed on his face. “And I wish, as you go, you’d go to a restaurant and send me up a bite to eat. I can’t leave with Hawford away.”‘ “'Where from, sir?” “The Cafe Cecil; they know me there.” “What’ll I send, sir?” “Oh, anything. I'm hungry. You needn’t hurry back, Masters.’ “All right, sir.” In the outer office, the boy stopped to enclose the package in a cover of newspaper, wrapping it again ami again. “There now,” he said, securing it with a rubber-band, “that won’t get dirty. Full of importance at his two commissions, he entered the big restaurant. People eyed him askance—a queer little figure be seemed in the fashionable place. One of the waiters approached him. “Are you looking for anyone, boy?” “No; I want to give an order.” He paused, enjoying the wonder on the other’s face. “For Mr Clayton,” he continued, “Mr John Clayton, 109 Queen Street.” “What will Mr Clayton have?” asked the waiter with respect. ‘•Let me see,” said, the boy importantly, “he’s hungry. Never mind no bill of fare. I know what he wants.” And Ire gave an order which later on caused Clayton to roar with laughter when it was seat up to his rooms. At home lie was no longer the frecklefaced imp of the office, but the only pride, joy, and hope of a worse than widowed mother. “iAn’ he Trusts me all right,” he said, as he concluded the tale of hia morning's duties. “Then do be careful, Joe, an’ don’t have no mishap,” said his mother, thinking of someone else who had been “trusted.” It was after one when he left the house. “No need to hurry,” he assured his •mother. “’Taint often he says no.t to hurry, an’ you bet he won’t expect me early. If I get there at three, it’ll be 0.K.” “It’s better to be early than late, Joe.” “Well, I’m off now, mother. He gave me car fare, but I’ll walk an’ save it.” “It’s too long, Joe, in the hot sun. Best take a car.” He laughed, shook his head, and walked away. It was perhaps an hour later, as she sat by the window sewing, that she saw Joe coming again toward the house. “Now, ain’t that nice,’’ was her first thought, “his boss has give him the whole afternoon.” But the next glance suggested another reason for liis appearance. “Lord, I do hope he ain’t lost his job,” she said aloud.

But Sarah Masters was not a stranger to misfortune or grief. She went for-

ward quite steadily and opened the door. She waited a moment for the boy to speak, as indeed he tried, but no word, came. She put her arms around him and. drew the freckled face to her breast.

“'What's wrong, Joe? Don’t be affeared to tell nothin’ to yer mother, boy.” At last the words came. •‘l’ve lost it.” “The package?” “Yes.”

“Well, that’s better’s yer job. It’ll likely be found, but jobs ain’t picked up every dav.”

“If ’taint found the job’s gone too. It must have cost a lot, the way he looked, an’ the way he say, ‘Them contents is vallible.’ ”

the gift of mimicry. She be gan to take the alarm. “Think where ye had it last, Joe.”

“I can't seem to remember. I’m purtv sura I put it in my coat. You know I was goin’ to show it to you, an’ yon said it weren’t our business' te even look at the outside.” “Yes, I remember.”

“Whether I had it then I don't know. If you only hadn’t said that,, mother.” She accepted the implied, unjust rebuke stolidlv.

“Yes, dear,” she said, after a moment, “ ’twere too bad, but we must do the best we can now. Do you, Joe, go right to Mr Clayton an’ tell him.” It was not a pleasant task, but Joe went willingly enough, hoping against hope that the package might have been found and returned. The interview lasted only a few minutes.

“If that diamond ring doesn’t come back,” Mr Clayton said, significantly, “I’ll liave you prosecuted. I might have known better than to have trusted one of your blood.” "One o’ my blood—what did lie mean by that, mother?” “Somethin’ about you bein’ too young, ■I expect.” •Wearily Joe walked over the way that he had come at noon. He found no trace —indeed, one was scarcely to be expected, as hundreds had passed over the road since. “There’s only one thing to do,” said his mother. “We’ll go to see the young lady.” “From Mr Clayton?” inquired the servont. “Yes, Mies Payne is in. You’re to go up at once. 'She’s been waiting.” But she looked surprised that a blackrobed figure followed the boy. ■'The messenger from Mr Clayton," she announced, and Mrs Masters found herself looking vacantly into a pair of very blue eyes, while their owner concealed her surprise and greeted her kindly and cordially.

“I’d like to speak to you alone, Miss,” she said at last. “Kin Joe go in the hall?” “Why, certainly.”

But even with the impediment of the boy’s inquiring eyes removed, his mother found it difficult to begin. At last she stumbled into the story—the lost ring, the suspicion that rested on the boy. Miss Payne spoke quickly. “Oh, Mi’ Clayton will feel dreadfully about it—it was his brother's ring; but I don’t think he -\vould suspect the boy.” “He does—he has a right to—the boy’s father stole. He’s in gaol now, servin’ time, an’ Mr Clayton knows it. But my Joe—as sure as Christ lives —my boy never done it; an’ he says he’ll gaol him fur it.”

She broke down then, crying quietly, not with the ease that accompanies a passionate outbreak, but slowly, painfully, hopelessly.

Alice Payne put a hand on her shoulder. “I believe you, and I’ll help you.” It was in the evening paper, a tersely worded advertisement, describing the package, where it was lost, and the suspicion under which the boy lay. Clayton had little to say about it when he duly arrived in the evening. Indeed, he had been a queer lover to cavil at anything that had flushed the cheeks, brightened the bright eyes, and made .Alice more sweetly loving than he had ever seen her. “And I’m, off, so sure you’ll find it, Jack! Women feel these things, you know. And as soon as it’s in iny hands I'll have it reset.” ■ Then for tbe dozenth time he must describe the diamond, the colour, and the size. After a time he responded to her mood. “I believe,” he said to himself, “I was hard on that boy—poor little friendless beggar! And to throw it up to him about his father—you, John Clayton, who always saw the injustice of sins descending as ll legacy. Ten to one, Alice is right. I’ll send a message a 8 soon as I

leave here to tell him to be sure to show

up in the morning.” And Alice, watching his face, knew just when the last shadow of suspicion vanished. Joe was prompt in the morning, a little quieter, a little more forlorn-looking, and the sparkle had quite gone from his impish eyes. ‘‘Did you hear anything, sir?” he asked. “No, not yet, but I expect we will before the day is over,” answered Clayton, smiling his rare smile at the freckled, eager face. Morning vanished; noon came. Joe left for his lunch, sighing at the remembrance of how proudly he had departed the day before. Clayton went otrt and found a messenger with a letter waiting for him upon his return. He opened the dainty missive. “Dear,” the letter read, “I’ll believe you the next time you pay I’m a witch! You know how sure, sure, doubly sure, I was that the package would be found? I've just received such a queer letter—quite illiterate. I’ll copy it down for you when I finish. And the ring, the ring! I’ve pried it out of its and am taking it to the jeweller as soon as I finish this. It is a beautiful diamond; tell your father how pleased I am—and do, do, do let Joe Masters and his mother know at once.” “Now, how the deuce did she know he had a mother?” he reflected. The lines at the bottom of the page read; “Deer Sur or Maddem—l ben thinkin’ Bence I picked up that packej. ’Taint mine, but, says I, the world aint never too ezy on a pore man, an’ I’ll jest keep it. Then I seen the ad, an' says I, Ho don’t ye never allow any blame to rest on a boy that don’t belong there. Ye’ve lieen there yourself an' you know 'taint right to let the sins of the father be vizited on the children to the forth generaslnm. Yours respeckful, One Who Knows.” C layton read if over again and once again, utterly- oblivious of the opening lines of the letter, which he usually learnt by heart. His keen eye detected many flaws in its composition. “World,” “allow,” “flame,” “belong,” “yourself”—all correctly spelled. And the reference to the “sins of the father,” who would have known that? Who could have known bnt Joe Masters? Masters, frightened into giving up his ill-gotten gains and thinking to retain his position and confidence —but he shouldn’t do it—not much! ’'Any news, Sir?” asked the boy- upon his return.

“Some make-believe news.” A moment later Joe came, with none of his superabundant exuberance, but stepping quietly, slowly, like an old man —a guilty one, his employer thought. “ The telephone again, sir.”

And into John Clayton’s listening ear came the words: “Hallo! That you, Mr. Clayton ? I'm glad to catch you. This is the Cecil—the restaurant, yon know. Well, that boy of yours dropped A package here yesterday—wrapped in newspaper. One of the waiters picked it up, and supposing it belonged to the boy, attached no importance to it—intended to give it to him when lie saw him again. I saw the ad. last night, so I took off Hie newspaper wrapping and there ryas the packet safe and sound. Send up, will vou ? ”

“Thanks, I'll send right away-,” he answered vaguely-. Then, in a moment he understood. “1 he little fraud! God bless her!” he said, softly-. , He walked back into the office and took a freckled, sad little face between his hands. “Joe, go to the Cecil and get the diamond ring .” “ It’s found, sir ? ” “ Yes. Then take it to Miss Payne and tell her I say her correspondent was a fraud—can you remember that ? ” “ Yes, sir. I won’t forget nothin’ soon again.” “And tell her I'll lie sure to call on that correspondent of hers to-night.” “Yes, sir. I'll remember every word.” “Then go home; tell your mother you’re going to have a rise, and that I shall not want you again to-day.”