Paste Jewels Part 4

"That jewel story sounds like an Arabian Nights tale," said Bessie.

"I don't believe that it is more than half true, and that half is exaggerated."

"Well, it IS true," said Thaddeus. "And, what is more, the girl helps in the was.h.i.+ng, plays with the children, and on her days out she stays at home and does sewing."

Bessie laughed. "She must be a regular Koh-i-noor," she said. "I suppose Mr. Bradley pays her a thousand dollars a month."

"No, he doesn't; he pays her twelve," said Thaddeus.

"Then he is just what I said he was," snapped Bessie--"a mean thing.

The idea--twelve dollars a month for all that! Why, if she could prove she was all that you say she is, she could make ten times that amount by exhibiting herself. She is a curiosity. But if I were Mrs. Bradley I wouldn't have her in the house. So many virtues piled one on the other are sure to make an unsafe structure, and I believe some poor, miserable little vice will crop out somewhere and upset the whole thing."

"You are jealous," said Thaddeus; and then he went out.

The next day, meeting his friend Bradley on the street, Thaddeus greeted him with a smile, and said, "Mrs. Perkins thinks you ought to take up literature."

"Why so?" asked Bradley.

"She thinks De Foe and Scott and Dumas and Stevenson would be thrown into the depths of oblivion if you were to write up that jewel of yours," said Thaddeus. "She thinks your Mary is one of the finest, most imaginative creations of modern days."

"She doubts her existence, eh?" smiled Bradley.

"Well, she thinks she's more likely to be a myth than a Smith," said Thaddeus. "She told me to ask you if Mary has a twin-sister, and to say that if you hear of her having any relatives at all--and no domestic ever lived who hadn't--to send her their addresses. She'd like to employ a few."

"I am sorry Mrs. Perkins is so blinded by jealousy," said Bradley, with a smile. "And I regret to say that Mary hasn't a cousin on the whole police force, or, in fact, any kind of a relative whatsoever, unless she prevaricates."

"Too bad," said Thaddeus. "I had a vague hope we could stock up on jewels of her kind. Where did you get her, anyhow--Tiffany's?"

"No. At an unintelligence office," said Bradley. "She was a last resort. We had to have some one, and she was the only girl there.

We took her for a week on trial without references, and, by Jove!

she turned out a wonder."

Thaddeus grinned, and said: "Give her time, Bradley. By-the-way, at what hours is she on exhibition? I'd like to see her."

"Come up to-night and test the truth of what I say," said Bradley.

"I won't let anybody know you are coming, and you'll see her just as we see her. What do you say?"

The temptation was too strong for Thaddeus to resist, and so it was that Bessie received a telegram that afternoon from her beloved, stating that he would dine with Bradley, and return home on a late train. The telegram concluded with the line, "I'M GOING TO APPRAISE THE ESCAPED CROWN-JEWEL."

Bessie chuckled at this, and stayed up until long after the arrival of the last train, so interested was she to hear from Thaddeus all about the Bradley jewel, who, as she said, "seemed too good to be true"; but she was finally forced to retire disappointed and somewhat anxious, for Thaddeus did not return home that night.

Somewhere in the neighborhood of eight o'clock the next morning Bessie received a second telegram, which read as follows:

"DO NOT WORRY. I AM ALL RIGHT. WILL BE HOME ABOUT NINE, HAVE BREAKFAST."

"Now I wonder what on earth can have kept him?" Bessie said.

"Something has happened, I am sure. Perhaps an accident on the elevated, or maybe--"

She did not finish the sentence, but rushed into the library and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the morning paper, scanning its every column in the expectation, if not hope, of finding that some horrible disaster had occurred, in which her Thaddeus might have been involved. The paper disclosed nothing of the sort. Only a few commonplace murders, the usual a.s.sortment of defalcations, baseball prophecies, and political prognostications could Bessie discover therein. Never, in fact, had the newspaper seemed so uninteresting--not even a bargain-counter announcement was there--and with an impatient, petulant stamp of her little foot she threw the journal from her and returned to the dining-room. It was then half-past eight, and, hardly able to contain herself with excitement, Bessie sat down by the window, and almost, if not quite, counted every swing of the pendulum that pushed the hands of the clock on to the desired hour. She could not eat, and not until curiosity was gratified as to what it was that had detained Thaddeus, and what, more singular still, was bringing him home instead of sending him to business at nine o'clock in the morning, could she, in fact, do anything.

Finally, the grinding sounds of carriage wheels on the gravel road without were heard, and in an instant Bessie was at the door to welcome the prodigal. And what a Thaddeus it was that came home that morning! His eyes showed conclusively that he had had no sleep, save the more or less unsatisfactory napping which suburban residents get on the trains. His beautiful pearl-gray scarf, that so became him when he left home the previous morning, was not anywhere in sight. His cheek was scratched, and every b.u.t.ton that his vest had ever known had taken wings unto itself and flown, Bessie knew not whither. And yet, tired out as he was, dishevelled as he was, Thaddeus was not grumpy, but inclined rather to explosive laughter as he entered the house.

"Why, Thaddeus!" cried Bessie, in alarm. "What on earth is the matter with you? You look as if you had been in a riot."

"That's a pretty good guess, my dear," returned Thaddeus, with a laugh, "but not quite the right one."

"But tell me, what have you been doing? Where have you been?"

"At Bradley's, my love."

"You haven't been--been quarrelling with Mr. Bradley?"

"No. Bradley's jewel has proved your husband's Waterloo, as well as the Sedan of Bradley himself," returned Thaddeus, throwing his head back and bursting out into a loud guffaw.

"I am not good at riddles, Thaddeus," said Bessie, "and I haven't laughed much myself since that last train came in last night and didn't bring you. I think you might tell me--"

"Why, my dear little girl," said Thaddeus, walking to her side and kissing her, "I didn't mean to keep you in suspense, and of course I'll tell you."

Then, as they ate their breakfast, Thaddeus explained. "I told Bradley that you were a sceptic on the subject of his jewel," he said, "and he offered to prove that she was eighteen carats fine by taking me home with him, an unexpected guest, by which act he would test her value to my satisfaction. Of course, having cast doubts upon her excellence, I had to accept, and at half-past five he and I boarded an elevated train for Harlem. At six we stood before Bradley's front door, and as he had left his keys at the office, he rang the bell and waited. It was a long wait, considering the presence of a jewel within doors. It must have lasted fifteen minutes, and even that would have been but the beginning, in spite of repeated and continuous pulling of the bell-handle, had we not determined to enter through the reception-room window."

"Did you try the bas.e.m.e.nt door?" queried Bessie, with a smile, for it pleased her to hear that the jewel was not quite flawless.

"Yes," said Thaddeus. "We rang four times at the bas.e.m.e.nt, and I should say seven times at the front door, and then we took to the window. Bradley's is one of those narrow English-bas.e.m.e.nt houses with a small yard in front, so that the reception-room window is easy to reach by climbing over the vault leading to the bas.e.m.e.nt door, which is more or less of a cellar entrance. Fortunately the window was unlocked. I say fortunately, because it enabled us to get into the house, though if I were sitting on a jury I think I should base an indictment--one of criminal negligence--of the Jewel on the fact that it was unlocked. It was just the hour, you know, when policemen yawn and sneak-thieves prowl."

"How careless!" vouchsafed Bessie.

"Very," said Thaddeus. "But this time it worked for the good of all concerned, although my personal appearance doesn't give any indication that I gained anything by it. In fact, it would have been better for me if the house had been hermetically sealed."

"Don't dally so much, Thaddeus," put in Bessie. "I'm anxious to hear what happened."

"Well, of course Bradley was very much concerned," continued Thaddeus. "It was bad enough not to be able to attract the maid's attention by ringing, but when he noticed that the house was as dark as pitch, and that despite the clanging of the bell, which could be heard all over the neighborhood, even his wife didn't come to the door, he was worried; and he was more worried than ever when he got inside. We lit the gas in the hall, and walked back into the dining-room, where we also lighted up, and such confusion as was there you never saw! The table-cloth was in a heap on the floor; Bradley's candelabra, of which he was always so proud, were bent and twisted out of shape under the table; gla.s.ses broken beyond redemption were strewn round about; and a mixture of pepper, salt, and sugar was over everything."

"'I believe there have been thieves here,' said Bradley, his face turning white. And then he went to the foot of the stairs and called up to his wife, but there no answer.

"Then he started on a dead run up the stair. Above all was in confusion, as in the dining-room. Vases were broken, pictures hung awry on the walls; but nowhere was Mrs. Bradley or one of the Bradley children to be seen.

"Then we began a systematic search of the house. Everywhere everything was upside-down, and finally we came to a door on the third story back, leading into the children's play-room, and as we turned the k.n.o.b and tried to open it we heard Mrs. Bradley's voice from within.

"'Who's there?' she said, her voice all of a tremble.

"'It is I!' returned Bradley. 'Open the door. What is the meaning of all this?'

"'Oh, I'm so glad you have come!' returned Mrs. Bradley, with a sob, and then we heard sounds as of the moving of heavy furniture. Mrs.

Bradley, for some as yet unexplained reason, seemed to have barricaded herself in.

"Finally the door was opened, and Mrs. Bradley buried her face on her husband's shoulder and sobbed hysterically.

"'What on earth is the matter?' asked Bradley, as his children followed their mother's lead, except that they buried their faces in his coat-tail pockets. 'What has happened?'