The Lock and Key Library: Classic Mystery and Detective Stories: Modern English
me. I don't know what I stammered in reply to her ladyship's remarks; my
whole soul was absorbed in the contemplation of the intoxicating
loveliness of the gem. _That_ a Palais Royal deception! Incredible! My
fingers twitched, my breath came short and fierce with the lust of
possession. She must have seen the covetous glare in my eyes. A look of
gratified spiteful complacency overspread her features, as she swept on
ahead and descended the stairs before me. I followed her to the
drawing-room door. She stopped suddenly, and murmuring something
unintelligible hurried back again.
Everybody was assembled there that I expected to see, with an addition.
Not a welcome one by the look on Tom's face. He stood on the hearthrug
conversing with a great hulking, high-shouldered fellow, sallow-faced,
with a heavy mustache and drooping eyelids, from the corners of which
flashed out a sudden suspicious look as I approached, which lighted up
into a greedy one as it rested on my rubies, and seemed unaccountably
familiar to me, till Lady Carwitchet tripping past me exclaimed:
"He has come at last! My naughty, naughty boy! Mr. Acton, this is my son,
Lord Carwitchet!"
I broke off short in the midst of my polite acknowledgments to stare
blankly at her. The sapphire was gone! A great gilt cross, with a Scotch
pebble like an acid drop, was her sole decoration.
"I had to put my pendant away," she explained confidentially; "the clasp
had got broken somehow." I didn't believe a word.
Lord Carwitchet contributed little to the general entertainment at dinner,
but fell into confidential talk with Mrs. Duberly-Parker. I caught a few
unintelligible remarks across the table. They referred, I subsequently
discovered, to the lady's little book on Northchurch races, and I
recollected that the Spring Meeting was on, and to-morrow "Cup Day." After
dinner there was great talk about getting up a party to go on General
Fairford's drag. Lady Carwitchet was in ecstasies and tried to coax me
into joining. Leta declined positively. Tom accepted sulkily.
The look in Lord Carwitchet's eye returned to my mind as I locked up my
rubies that night. It made him look so like his mother! I went round my
fastenings with unusual care. Safe and closets and desk and doors, I tried
them all. Coming at last to the bathroom, it opened at once. It was the
housemaid's doing. She had evidently taken advantage of my having
abandoned the room to give it "a thorough spring cleaning," and I
anathematized her. The furniture was all piled together and veiled with
sheets, the carpet and felt curtain were gone, there were new brooms
about. As I peered around, a voice close at my ear made me jump--Lady
Carwitchet's!
"I tell you I have nothing, not a penny! I shall have to borrow my train
fare before I can leave this. They'll be glad enough to lend it."
Not only had the _portière_ been removed, but the door behind it had been
unlocked and left open for convenience of dusting behind the wardrobe. I
might as well have been in the bedroom.
"Don't tell me," I recognized Carwitchet's growl. "You've not been here
all this time for nothing. You've been collecting for a Kilburn cot or
getting subscriptions for the distressed Irish landlords. I know you. Now
I'm not going to see myself ruined for the want of a paltry hundred or so.
I tell you the colt is a dead certainty. If I could have got a thousand or
two on him last week, we might have ended our dog days millionaires. Hand
over what you can. You've money's worth, if not money. Where's that
sapphire you stole?"
"I didn't. I can show you the receipted bill. All _I_ possess is honestly
come by. What could you do with it, even if I gave it you? You couldn't
sell it as the Valdez, and you can't get it cut up as you might if it were
real."
"If it's only bogus, why are you always in such a flutter about it? I'll
do something with it, never fear. Hand over."
"I can't. I haven't got it. I had to raise something on it before I left
town."
"Will you swear it's not in that wardrobe? I dare say you will. I mean to
see. Give me those keys."
I heard a struggle and a jingle, then the wardrobe door must have been
flung open, for a streak of light struck through a crack in the wood of
the back. Creeping close and peeping through, I could see an awful sight.
Lady Carwitchet in a flannel wrapper, minus hair, teeth, complexion,
pointing a skinny forefinger that quivered with rage at her son, who was
out of the range of my vision.
"Stop that, and throw those keys down here directly, or I'll rouse the
house. Sir Thomas is a magistrate, and will lock you up as soon as look at
you." She clutched at the bell rope as she spoke. "I'll swear I'm in
danger of my life from you and give you in charge. Yes, and when you're in
prison I'll keep you there till you die. I've often thought I'd do it. How
about the hotel robberies last summer at Cowes, eh? Mightn't the police be
grateful for a hint or two? And how about--"
The keys fell with a crash on the bed, accompanied by some bad language in
an apologetic tone, and the door slammed to. I crept trembling to bed.
This new and horrible complication of the situation filled me with
dismay. Lord Carwitchet's wolfish glance at my rubies took a new meaning.
They were safe enough, I believed--but the sapphire! If he disbelieved his
mother, how long would she be able to keep it from his clutches? That she
had some plot of her own of which the bishop would eventually be the
victim I did not doubt, or why had she not made her bargain with him long
ago? But supposing she took fright, lost her head, allowed her son to
wrest the jewel from her, or gave consent to its being mutilated, divided!
I lay in a cold perspiration till morning.
My terrors haunted me all day. They were with me at breakfast time when
Lady Carwitchet, tripping in smiling, made a last attempt to induce me to
accompany her and keep her "bad, bad boy" from getting among "those horrid
betting men."
They haunted me through the long peaceful day with Leta and the
_tête-à-tête_ dinner, but they swarmed around and beset me sorest when,
sitting alone over my sitting-room fire, I listened for the return of the
drag party. I read my newspaper and brewed myself some hot strong drink,
but there comes a time of night when no fire can warm and no drink can
cheer. The bishop's despairing face kept me company, and his troubles and
the wrongs of the future heir took possession of me. Then the uncanny
noises that make all old houses ghostly during the small hours began to
make themselves heard. Muffled footsteps trod the corridor, stopping to
listen at every door, door latches gently clicked, boards creaked
unreasonably, sounds of stealthy movements came from the locked-up
bathroom. The welcome crash of wheels at last, and the sound of the
front-door bell. I could hear Lady Carwitchet making her shrill _adieux_
to her friends and her steps in the corridor. She was softly humming a
little song as she approached. I heard her unlock her bedroom door before
she entered--an odd thing to do. Tom came sleepily stumbling to his room
later. I put my head out. "Where is Lord Carwitchet?"
"Haven't you seen him? He left us hours ago. Not come home, eh? Well,
he's welcome to stay away. I don't want to see more of him." Tom's brow
was dark and his voice surly. "I gave him to understand as much." Whatever
had happened, Tom was evidently too disgusted to explain just then.
I went back to my fire unaccountably relieved, and brewed myself another
and a stronger brew. It warmed me this time, but excited me foolishly.
There must be some way out of the difficulty. I felt now as if I could
almost see it if I gave my mind to it. Why--suppose--there might be no
difficulty after all! The bishop was a nervous old gentleman. He might
have been mistaken all through, Bogaerts might have been mistaken, I
might--no. I could not have been mistaken--or I thought not. I fidgeted
and fumed and argued with myself till I found I should have no peace of
mind without a look at the stone in my possession, and I actually went to
the safe and took the case out.
The sapphire certainly looked different by lamplight. I sat and stared,
and all but overpersuaded my better judgment into giving it a verdict.
Bogaerts's mark--I suddenly remembered it. I took my magnifier and held
the pendant to the light. There, scratched upon the stone, was the Greek
Beta! There came a tap on my door, and before I could answer, the handle
turned softly and Lord Carwitchet stood before me. I whipped the case into
my dressing-gown pocket and stared at him. He was not pleasant to look at,
especially at that time of night. He had a disheveled, desperate air, his
voice was hoarse, his red-rimmed eyes wild.
"I beg your pardon," he began civilly enough. "I saw your light burning,
and thought, as we go by the early train to-morrow, you might allow me to
consult you now on a little business of my mother's." His eyes roved about
the room. Was he trying to find the whereabouts of my safe? "You know a
lot about precious stones, don't you?"
"So my friends are kind enough to say. Won't you sit down? I have
unluckily little chance of indulging the taste on my own account," was my
cautious reply.
"But you've written a book about them, and know them when you see them,
don't you? Now my mother has given me something, and would like you to
give a guess at its value. Perhaps you can put me in the way of disposing
of it?"
"I certainly can do so if it is worth anything. Is that it?" I was in a
fever of excitement, for I guessed what was clutched in his palm. He held
out to me the Valdez sapphire.
How it shone and sparkled like a great blue star! I made myself a
deprecating smile as I took it from him, but how dare I call it false to
its face? As well accuse the sun in heaven of being a cheap imitation. I
faltered and prevaricated feebly. Where was my moral courage, and where
was the good, honest, thumping lie that should have aided me? "I have the
best authority for recognizing this as a very good copy of a famous stone
in the possession of the Bishop of Northchurch." His scowl grew so black
that I saw he believed me, and I went on more cheerily: "This was
manufactured by Johannes Bogaerts--I can give you his address, and you can
make inquiries yourself--by special permission of the then owner, the late
Leone Montanaro."
"Hand it back!" he interrupted (his other remarks were outrageous, but
satisfactory to hear); but I waved him off. I couldn't give it up. It
fascinated me. I toyed with it, I caressed it. I made it display its
different tones of color. I must see the two stones together. I must see
it outshine its paltry rival. It was a whimsical frenzy that seized me--I
can call it by no other name.
"Would you like to see the original? Curiously enough, I have it here. The
bishop has left it in my charge."
The wolfish light flamed up in Carwitchet's eyes as I drew forth the case.
He laid the Valdez down on a sheet of paper, and I placed the other, still
in its case, beside it. In that moment they looked identical, except for
the little loop of sham stones, replaced by a plain gold band in the
bishop's jewel. Carwitchet leaned across the table eagerly, the table gave
a lurch, the lamp tottered, crashed over, and we were left in
semidarkness.
"Don't stir!" Carwitchet shouted. "The paraffin is all over the place!" He
seized my sofa blanket, and flung it over the table while I stood
helpless. "There, that's safe now. Have you candles on the chimney-piece?
I've got matches."
He looked very white and excited as he lit up. "Might have been an awkward
job with all that burning paraffin, running about," he said quite
pleasantly. "I hope no real harm is done." I was lifting the rug with