Final Proof Part 37

"'I have my check-book with me. You know who I am,--Leroy Mitchel. There is light enough by this lantern to write, and I have a fountain-pen. If you sell me the ruby, and take the check, you may safely go to the house. The would-be thieves are listening and perhaps watching us.

Consequently, they will know of this transaction and will have no reason to follow you.'

"'But yourself?'

"'I can take care of myself, especially as I am armed. I shall follow you in a few moments, and I am sure no attack will be made upon me.'

"She hesitated a moment. She did not really wish to sell the stone, yet her only other alternative was to inform me that as another man was present we might go to the house together without fear. But not wis.h.i.+ng to disclose the presence of this other man, she decided to sell me the stone, or rather to appear to do so, for her plan was to return my check later and recover the ruby. This offer she made to me on the following day, but I declined because the idea of forming my collection of rare gems had entered my mind when I heard the plotters talking. Before finally yielding she made one effort, being a plucky woman.

"'I need not sell you the ruby, Mr. Mitchel, for if, as you say, you are armed, I have no fear of accepting your escort to the house.'

"This of course would have defeated my purpose, so I hastily explained to her that I wished to stay behind because I intended to attempt to capture one or both of the ruffians. Whether or not she might have found some other means of avoiding my offer, she did not think of one then, so she handed me the ruby and I gave her the check. After she had left me, I cautiously searched the hedges but met no one. I was satisfied, however, that the men had heard all that had pa.s.sed, and I also believed that they might still imagine that there would be a chance to get the ruby, under the supposition that my purchase was but a pretense, and that as soon as I should return to the parlors I would restore the jewel. It was for this reason that I wore it conspicuously in my scarf."

"What of the little woman in the green domino? Did you see her again?"

"I caught a glimpse of her only, though I am sure she got a better view of me. It was in the house. Here, also, there was a profusion of green, the place being literally strewn with potted plants. I was standing near a group of palms when I caught sight of my lady of the green domino, gazing intently at me. As she saw that I had detected her presence, she swiftly glided away, and I lost her in the throng. I was certain, however, that she saw the ruby in my scarf, and so knew that I had prevented the mischief of which she had warned me."

"It would have been interesting to discover her ident.i.ty."

"All in good time, Mr. Detective. We come now to the story of the string of pearls. It was just three weeks later. Madame was holding another fete. Once more I was destined to play eavesdropper, though this time with even still more startling results. I had been dancing a quadrille, my unknown partner being charmingly dressed in a costume which at the time I did not understand. I had noticed her several times during the evening, standing always alone, apparently neglected by the young men.

So I asked her to be my partner, rather in the spirit of giving her some of the pleasures of the evening, though you must understand that I was at that time young myself and quite susceptible to the charms of the opposite s.e.x. She had seemed reluctant at first to dance with me, and then, as though impulsively altering her mind, she had expressed her willingness more in act than by any word, for she had not spoken.

Clutching my arm nervously, she had led me a little way across the floor, and stopped where a couple was needed to fill a quadrille. _En vis-a-vis_ was a couple who attracted her attention to such an extent that I almost imagined that my partner had brought me into this set with the purpose of watching them. The man was unmistakably dressed as Romeo, while the costume of his partner was as mystifying to me as that of the girl beside me. I afterwards learned that she was a.s.suming the guise of Helen of Troy."

"Your hostess, Madame Damien, I'll be bound."

"You make a good guesser, Mr. Barnes. Madame Damien it was, though, truth to tell, I was so much interested in the silent, watchful girl beside me that I paid little attention to the others. The quadrille had just ended and I was wondering how best to make my little sphinx talk, when a strange thing happened. The couple opposite to us crossed toward us, and as they approached my partner swayed as though about to fall, and then suddenly toppled over against me, and in a whisper she said:

"'I am dizzy. Take me out in the air.'

"Just then, 'Helen of Troy,' hanging on the arm of her 'Romeo,' pa.s.sed so close to us that the women's costumes touched. She looked scrutinizingly at the girl with me, and I heard her say to her companion,--

"'That girl is a sphinx.'

"Then they pa.s.sed on. Her words startled me, for I had just used the epithet in my own mind in connection with my partner. I thought of her as a sphinx because of her silence. But now that some one else called her a sphinx, I observed that she wore a curious head-dress which reminded one of the great monument of the Eastern desert. Perhaps, then, she was but playing the part which she had a.s.sumed with her costume. At all events there seemed to be a mystery worthy of the effort at penetration. So I hurried out into the air with my little sphinx, and soon we were walking up one of the snow-white walks. I tried to induce her to talk, but though she seemed willing to remain in my companions.h.i.+p, she trembled a good deal but kept as mum as the stone image to which I now likened her. I was wondering by what device I might make her talk, when she utterly startled me by crying out:

"'I wish I dared to tell you everything. Perhaps you might help me.'

"'Tell me what you will, little one,' said I, 'and I will help you if I can, and keep your secret besides.'

"'Oh, there is no secret,' she exclaimed; 'I am not so wicked as that.

But we cannot talk here. Come, I know a place.'

"I followed her as she hurried me on, more mystified than before. She tells me 'there is no secret,' and that she is 'not as wicked as that.'

Why need she be wicked, to have a secret? I could not fathom it, but as I was to know all, even though it were no secret, I was able to await the telling. Oddly enough, as it seemed to me then, she led me to the very lovers' nook in which I had found Madame Damien when I purchased the ruby. Before entering, my little sphinx took the precaution to extinguish the lanterns at the doorway, so that when we pa.s.sed inside we were in gloom as impenetrable as that of one of the pa.s.sageways in the pyramids. She seemed familiar with the place, for she took my hand and led me away to one side, where there was a rustic bench. Here we sat down, and after a few minutes she began.

"'You do not know me, of course,' said she.

"'Why, no,' I replied; 'how should I?'

"'I was afraid you might have recognized my voice. But then I haven't spoken much to you, have I?'

"'No; but now I do recognize your voice at least. It was you who warned me, here at this very spot, at the last fete. Was it not?'

"'Yes; I heard the men talking and I was afraid they might hurt--might hurt some one. Then you came along, and so I told you. I recognized you to-night because you have the same dress.'

"I began to suspect that the 'some one' whom she had s.h.i.+elded that night was not our fair hostess, but rather the man who had been with her. I was wondering whether it would be wise to ask her this question, or whether to wait for her to tell her story in her own way, when I was startled at feeling the softest of hands pressed tightly over my lips, and to hear a whisper close to my ear.

"'Don't speak,' she said; 'they are coming--they are coming here.'

"I strained my ears and at first heard nothing, but love sharpens the ears I suppose, for presently I did hear footsteps, and then low voices, growing louder as though approaching, and finally the persons, evidently a man and woman, actually entered our place of concealment. The situation was embarra.s.sing, especially as that little hand still rested over my mouth as though warning me to do nothing. Luckily, the intruders did not come to our side of the place, but took seats apparently opposite. They were talking in earnest tones, the woman finis.h.i.+ng a sentence as they came in.

"'--my mind, whether to release you or not. At all events, I must know more about this somewhat curious proposition of yours.'

"I recognized at once the voice of Madame Damien. It was evident, therefore, that the man was her partner of the dance, and that it was he who had been with her in this place on the other occasion seemed a probability. He answered her as follows:

"'I do not think the proposition is a curious one. I only do what women always do. Certainly my s.e.x should have the same privileges in an affair of this character.'

"'That is a question that philosophers might discuss,' said Madame Damien, 'but we need not. Whether you have the right or not it is evident that you choose to exercise it. And what is this right?'

"'The right to tell you the truth. The right to tell you that I do not love you, that I have made a terrible blunder.'

"The little hand over my mouth trembled violently, and slipped away. I could hear the girl next to me breathing so distinctly that it seemed odd that the others did not hear also. Perhaps they were too much occupied with their own affair.

"'The right to tell me that you do not love me,' repeated Madame; 'but you have so often told me that you do love me, and you have told me of your love so eloquently, that now when you come to me and say that you have made a blunder, naturally I have the right to question you. Here are two opposite statements. How am I to know which to believe?'

"'I am telling you the truth, now.'

"'Perhaps; you may be right. You may know your heart at last, and if what you say is really true, of course I have no desire to try to keep what you only supposed to be love, however eloquently you told about it, however well you played the part. The awkward thing is that to-morrow, next week, by the new moon perhaps, you may be at my feet again singing the same old songs, old love songs. You will tell me that what you say then is truth, but that what you are telling me now is false. How, then, shall I know what to think?'

"'What I tell you now is true. I shall not tell you otherwise at any time in the future.'

"'Of this you are quite sure?'

"'Quite sure!'

"Up to this point the woman had spoken softly, almost with love in her voice. It sounded like a mother talking with her son who was confessing a change of heart, or rather a change of sweethearts. Now, suddenly, all was changed. When she spoke again it was in the voice of rage, almost of hate. It was the woman spurned; more than that,--it was the woman jealous of the rival who had replaced her in her lover's heart.

"'So you are quite sure that you will not make love to me again!' she cried, with such ferocity that the girl beside me moved closer to me as though seeking protection; 'you are sure of that? Then you love another.

There is no other test by which you could be so sure. Answer me, is it true? Is it true, I say? Answer me at once; I want no lies.'

"'Well, and what if it is true,' said the man, angered by her speech.

"'What if it is true? You ask me that? Well, I'll answer. If it is true, then the other girl is welcome to you. She may have you, with your second-hand love. May she be happy in the love that changes with the moon. So much for her. But with you. Ah, that must be different. You wish to be released? Well, you shall pay for your liberty, my fickle lover; you shall pay!'

"'I will pay you whatever you demand. What is it?'

"'So. You value your liberty so much that you promise before you know my terms! Very well, then. You will bring me to-night, before an hour has pa.s.sed, the string of pearls that your mother wore on her wedding-day.'

"'My G.o.d, no! Not that! It is impossible!'