by Robert Reed
She shook her head with a sad little smile . “I dared not send a
letter by her, or give you an excuse for falling in love with her,” she
rallied him .
“I don’t remember her . What was she like?” said Festini, calmly .
“She remembered you,” said Vera . “She maddened me by her
chatter of you . I am happy to say that she did not like you very
much .”
Festini smiled .
“So few people do,” he said .
He slipped off his overcoat .
“We are perfectly safe from interruption here?” he asked .
She inclined her head .
“There is no danger whatever .”
“Now then,” he said, briskly, “let us talk for quite five minutes,
dear .”
They sat head to head, talking . Five minutes became ten . The
young man spoke quickly, vehemently; and she answered in mono-
syllables . It was nothing to her that he asked so much . She would
have sacrificed more than her husband’s possessions to please him.
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Every law in the world, save the law of gravitation, is suspended
in the woman in love . Faith, honour, every known principle went
by the board . She had no sense of right or wrong where he was
concerned . Only a desire to serve him .
“You had best make the attempt between three and four,” he said .
“I will be here in the garden, waiting . I have a cycle hidden near by,
and a car will be waiting for me on the London road .”
“I wanted to say something to you,” she said suddenly . “I hate
admitting a failure, and, dearie, I tried so hard .”
His quick intuition divined her meaning . “Oh, the money,” he
said, lightly . “Don’t let that bother you . I managed to get some . We’ve
been out of luck lately . This infernal man, Tillizini, has dammed our
usual sources . We had a windfall last week, and in a month’s time,”
he said, and she saw the soft light die from the eyes and the delicate
mouth harden in one straight line, “in a month’s time!” he repeated,
“we shall be very rich . And England will be very sore .”
With lightning change he brightened again, and was his own in-
souciant self .
“Don’t let the money worry you . We have quite a lot now,” he
said. “I, somehow, didn’t fancy you’d be able to raise the five hun-
dred .”
He rose to go and she assisted him with his coat .
“By the way,” he said, “that niece of yours—what did you say
her name was?”
“Marjorie .”
“That is the name,” he nodded . “I seem to remember her . Where
is she now?” He put the question carelessly .
“She’s in the house,” replied Vera .
“What a curious coincidence!” he smiled . “She doesn’t speak
about me nowadays, I suppose?” he asked .
Vera shook her head . It had occurred to the young man that the
girl might have referred to their meeting at Victoria .
“Why, of course, how stupid of me!” he said, suddenly . “I saw
her the other day—on some station—I remember her now . A tall,
healthy-looking, robust person .”
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His description was not flattering to Marjorie, but it was emi-
nently pleasing to the woman, who was jealous of every other inter-
est he had in life .
“That is not kind,” she smiled, “but I think it more or less de-
scribes her .”
“She was with a tall man, I remember .”
“He is in the house too,” she said .
He looked at her thoughtfully .
“He is in the house too,” he repeated, and his voice was hard .
She thought he was tired, and moved to the window . Her hand
was on the curtain . She stood waiting, then, with a little sigh, she
nestled close to him .
“I want you so,” she breathed . “My God, I do so want you! You
don’t know what it means—what I feel .…”
He laughed, a gentle, tolerant laugh .
He held out his arms, for a second she lay on his breast, her heart
beating wildly—perfectly and divinely happy .
“I must go now,” he said, gently . “I am afraid of being caught .”
With some reluctance she opened the window . He stood for a
moment on the balcony, reconnoitring the position .
The coast was clear . In a second he was over the balustrade, and
had slipped noiselessly to the ground .
CHAPTER XII
THE SECOND MEDALLION
She waited till he disappeared in the shadow of the garden; then
pulled up the ladder and placed it in a drawer within the wardrobe,
from whence she had extracted it, and closed the windows .
He had left very definite instructions, and she went over them in
her mind to make absolutely sure .
The medallion she knew . She had prepared a drawing especially
for this man whose influence was the guiding and dominant thing in
her life .
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She looked round carefully to remove all trace of the visitor’s
presence . Then she unlocked the door and went out .
As she passed the little museum, Sir Ralph and his guest emerged .
He looked at her in some surprise .
“Hello, Vera,” he said pleasantly, for him, “I thought you were
with the others .”
“I’ve been doing my accounts,” she said, with a little grimace .
Sir Ralph chuckled . In his more pleasant moods he took a humor-
ous view of his own economies .
He was fastening the door of the museum, when Vera intervened .
“I’d like to see those medallions of yours again,” she said .
Sir Ralph was pleased . Vera took too little interest in his collec-
tion to satisfy him . It was one of his grievances that she did not enter
into what he termed the “larger side of his life .”
“Come along, come along,” he said, “only do not provoke Hilary
to a discussion on art, because he is the veriest Philistine .”
He chuckled again .
The museum was the one room in the house lighted by electricity .
Here once more Sir Ralph had been guilty of an extravagance which
was entirely foreign to his nature . He had had a storage battery in-
stalled especially for the illumination of his treasure house .
The girl looked at the medallions with more than usual interest .
She had seen them before, and recently, though this Sir Ralph did
not know . She had a twofold object in asking for this inspection . Her
husband had grown nervous as a result of the activity of the “Red
Hand,” and had signified his intention of changing all the locks. She
wanted to make certain that he had not carried out his plans .
Her first glance reassured her. They had not been altered, nor had
he changed the position of the medallions .
“They are very beautiful,” she said .
In point of fact she thought them very uninteresting, but it was
not politic to express this view .
“They grow on you, do they not?” said Sir Ralph, enthusiasti-
cally . “I sha
ll make a connoisseur of you in time, Vera .”
She went downstairs ahead of the two men, in a thoughtful mood .
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It was after midnight when the little party broke up, and retired
to their rooms .
Frank was one of the last to go upstairs . He passed through the
drawing-room, and found Vera tidying away the chessmen with
which Sir Ralph and Hilary had been amusing themselves .
He would have gone straight on, but something induced him to
stop .
“Good night, Lady Morte-Mannery,” he said .
She was bending over the table and did not trouble to raise her
head .
“Good night, Mr . Gallinford,” she said .
He still waited .
“I feel that I ought to explain something that is in my mind,” he
said, a trifle uncomfortably. He had no great command of language,
and was somewhat embarrassed .
“I shouldn’t, if I were you,” she said, quietly . “Let matters go as
they are, and be charitable .”
She was in a melting mood to-night . For no reason that she could
think of, she felt a desire to stand well with the world, and especially
with that section of the world which this good-looking English youth
represented .
“There is a key-word,” she said, “which explains the most con-
tradictory situations—the most unlikely and unthinkable follies .
You may know that key-word .”
“I only know one,” he said, gently, “and that is ‘Love .’”
Vera smiled at him . It was a dazzling, human smile, that revealed
in a flash the deeps of her nature.
“That is the word,” she said, and went on with her tidying .
He stood a second longer; then, with another “Good night” he
left her, puzzled and a little ashamed of his own attitude towards her .
At the head of the stairs Marjorie was waiting to say “Good-
night,” and in a moment all thought of the woman he had left in the
drawing-room below, and her cryptic utterances, were obliterated
from his mind .
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* * * *
Vera had been reading before her bedroom fire. She had spent
the whole of the night reading and thinking . The reading had been
mechanical; she could not recall a single sentence or one situation
from the thrilling novel which lay upon her knee .
She looked up at the little clock over the mantelpiece . The hands
pointed to a quarter to four .
She rose and took from a hanging cupboard a long dark rain-coat,
and this she put on over her dressing-gown, buttoning it carefully so
that it should not inconvenience her movements .
She unlocked and opened a drawer of her writing-table and took
out a red morocco case .
This she again unlocked with a key attached to a bunch she had
taken from under her pillow . The case was apparently empty, but she
pressed a spring and the bottom of the box flew up.
Three beautifully fashioned keys lay on the velvet in the false
bottom . She took them in her hand, closed the box, and extinguished
the light .
She waited by the door for a moment or two, listening . Then she
opened it and stepped out into the dark corridor .
She had twenty or thirty yards to walk, but her mocassined feet
made no sound upon the thick carpet . The house lay wrapped in
slumber, as silent as death .
She could hear nothing save the rattle within the wainscot of a
foraging mouse . She walked on until she came to the museum . Here
she halted again, listening .
Sir Ralph slept in a room on the farther side and, fortunately, was
a heavy sleeper . Hilary had the room on the other .
She inserted the key, opened the rosewood door, took the other
key and turned it in the steel door .
Noiselessly the well-oiled lock shot back . She pushed the door
open and entered, closing both doors behind her . She could not lock
them from the inside, but there was no chance of a casual passer
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observing that it had been opened—even if casual wanderers were
likely at this hour of the morning .
She took from the pocket of her rain-coat a tiny electric lamp,
and flashed it over the cases. She found the one she wanted, unshut-
tered it deftly, opened the glass case, and lifted out the medallion .
She made a quick inspection of it, to make sure that she had the
right jewel .
Noiselessly she slipped through the door, locked it behind her,
and fastened the outer covering quickly .
Then she turned to retrace her steps to her room .
She took one step and then stopped, rooted to the ground with
terror and dismay, for, confronting her, she saw a bulky form .
There was not enough light to show her his face, but she knew it
was Hilary George .
“Who’s there?” he asked, softly .
She was paralysed with terror . She could not force her tongue to
speak .
“Who is that?” he asked, and his voice rose .
With a superhuman effort she recovered her self-possession .
If he spoke louder he would wake Sir Ralph, and that would be
the end of things .
“It is I,” she said, speaking in the same tone .
“Lady Morte-Mannery? I am sorry,” he whispered . “I thought I
heard somebody in the grounds, and I listened, but heard nothing
more, so I got a little uneasy .
“It’s all right,” she said, speaking in the same tone as before . “I
have been to Sir Ralph’s room to get a little veronal . I cannot sleep .”
With a whispered apology he went back to his room .
It was on the other side of the treasure house, and she wondered if
she had made any noise . Had he seen her come out? His next words
lifted a weight from her heart .
“I couldn’t see where you came from,” he said, “or who you
were . I hope I didn’t frighten you?”
“Oh, no,” she said, lightly .
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With another apology he went into his room, and closed the door
softly behind him .
She flew along the passage to her room, her heart beating wildly.
Once in the room, she locked the door and drew the curtain across
it . Then she lit the gas with an unsteady hand . She caught a glimpse
of her face in the mirror over the fireplace, and was shocked at its
drawn and haggard appearance .
There was still part of the work to be done .
Hilary had heard somebody in the garden . That would be Festini .
She looked to make sure that she had the jewel, then she turned out
the light again, opened the shutters, and crept out on to the balcony .
She saw a dark figure standing in the shadow of some bushes.
The man came forward as she appeared .
“Catch!” she whispered .
He held out his hand as she threw .
He caught the medallion neatly, and put it in his pocket, then
turned without a word and plunged into the bushes .
She stood for a moment—a little disap
pointed feeling in her
heart . After all she had risked, all she had dared, she had hoped for
some word of thanks .
She was turning to re-enter the room when a sibilant voice held
her .Her heart bounded . He had come back . She looked down at the
dark figure beneath. “Did you get it?” he whispered, in a low tone.
“Get it?” she said, in bewilderment, “I have just given it to you .”
“Given it to me?” his voice was harsh . “You have given me noth-
ing . I have been waiting here for half an hour .”
She staggered back against the balustrade, half sick with fear .
“Tell me, tell me,” said the voice impatiently, growing louder .
“Who was it you gave it to?”
“I gave it to a man,” she said, faintly .
“Which way did he go?”
“Through those bushes,” she said . Without another word he ran
in the direction the other man had taken .
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She had time to get back to the room, close the shutters and pull
the curtains, before she fell half-swooning upon the ground .
Festini was light of foot, quick, and with the almost cat-like abil-
ity of picking his way in the dark . He had not gone twenty yards
before he saw the man ahead .
There was no time for finesse.
Fortunately for him, Festini had changed his plans . He had
dropped the idea of coming by cycle, and his car now stood, purring
gently, in a little lane which adjoined the house .
As he sighted the man ahead, he whipped out his automatic pistol
and fired twice.
Without a sound the man sank to the ground .
Festini had no time to examine his victim . He knew that he was
still alive, as he bent over him and searched his waistcoat pockets .
In one of these he had hoped to find the jewel, but it was not
there .
But it was in the clasped hand of the stricken man .
Festini found it, wrenched open the fingers, and possessed him-
self of the prize .
“Now! Do your worst,” he hissed, as he swung round and shook
his fist, as at a world that was at war with him, “do your worst!”
The sound of the shot had awakened the people of the house .
Lights appeared in two or three rooms .
Vera, lying on the floor, was roused to consciousness by a loud
knocking at her door .
She got up slowly . Her head was still dizzy, and she staggered as
she walked .
“Who is there?” she asked .