The Datchet Diamonds Read online

  CHAPTER XII

  A WOMAN ROUSED

  Almost as soon as Mr. Franklyn touched the knocker of the house inMedina Villas, the door was opened from within, and he found himselfconfronted by Miss Strong.

  "Oh, Mr. Franklyn, is it you at last?" She saw that some one wasstanding at Mr. Franklyn's back. "Cyril!" she cried. Then, perceivingher mistake, drew back. "I beg your pardon, I thought it was Mr.Paxton."

  The man in the rear advanced.

  "Is Mr. Paxton here?" He turned to Mr. Franklyn. "Unless you wanttrouble, if he is here, you had better tell me."

  Mr. Franklyn answered.

  "Mr. Paxton is not here. If you like you may go in and look foryourself; but if you are a wise man you will take my assurance assufficient."

  Mr. Hollier looked at Mr. Franklyn, then at Miss Strong, then decided.

  "Very well, sir. I don't wish to make myself more disagreeable than Ican help. I'll take your word."

  Directly he was in the hall and the door was closed Miss Strong caughtMr. Franklyn by the arm. He could feel that she was trembling, as shewhispered, almost in his ear--

  "Mr. Franklyn, what does that man want with Cyril?"

  He drew her with him into the sitting-room. Conscious that he wasabout to play a principal part in a very delicate situation, hedesired to take advantage of still another moment or two to enable himto collect his thoughts. Miss Wentworth, having relinquished herreading, was sitting up in her armchair, awaiting his arrival with anair of evident expectancy. He looked at Miss Strong. Her hand waspressed against her side; her head was thrown a little back; you couldsee the muscles working in her beautiful, rounded throat almost asplainly as you may see them working in the throat of a bird. For themoment Mr. Franklyn was inclined to wish that Cyril Paxton had neverbeen his friend. He was not a man who was easily unnerved, but as hesaw the something which was in the young girl's face, he foundhimself, for almost the first time in his life, at a loss for words.

  Miss Strong had to put her question a second time.

  "Mr. Franklyn, what does that man want with Cyril?"

  When he did speak the lawyer found, somewhat to his surprise, that histhroat seemed dry, and that his voice was husky.

  "Strictly speaking, I cannot say that the man wants Cyril at all. Whathe does want is to know if I am in communication with him."

  "Why should he want to know that?" While he was seeking words, MissStrong followed with another question. "But, tell me, have you seenCyril?"

  "I have not. Though it seems he is in Brighton, or, rather, he was twohours ago."

  "Two hours ago? Then where is he now?"

  "That at present I cannot tell you. He left his hotel two hours ago,as was thought, to keep an appointment; it would almost seem as if hehad been starting to keep the appointment which he had with you."

  "Two hours ago? Yes. I was waiting for him then. But he never came.Why didn't he? You know why he didn't. Tell me!"

  "The whole affair seems to be rather an odd one, though in allprobability it amounts to nothing more than a case of cross-questionsand crooked answers. What I have learnt is little enough. If you willsit down I will tell you all there is to tell."

  Mr. Franklyn advanced a chair towards Miss Strong with studiedcarelessness. She spurned the proffered support with something morethan contempt.

  "I won't sit down. How can I sit down when you have something to tellme? I can always listen best when I am standing."

  Putting his hands behind his back, Mr. Franklyn assumed what hepossibly intended to be an air of parental authority.

  "See here, Miss Strong. You can, if you choose, be as sensible a youngwoman as I should care to see. If you so choose now, well and good.But I tell you plainly that on your showing the slightest symptom ofhysterics my lips will be closed, and you will not get another wordout of me."

  If by his attempting to play the part of heavy father he had supposedthat Miss Strong would immediately be brought into a state ofsubjection, he had seldom made a greater error. So far from havingcowed her, he seemed to have fired all the blood in her veins. Shedrew herself up until she had increased her stature by at least aninch, and she addressed the man of law in a strain in which heprobably had never been addressed before.

  "How dare you dictate how I am to receive any scraps of informationwhich you may condescend to dole out to me! You forget yourself. Cyrilis to be my husband; you pretend to be his friend. If it is anythingbut pretence, and you are a gentlemen, and a man of honour, you willsee that it is your duty to withhold no tidings of my promised husbandfrom his future wife. How I choose to receive those tidings is myaffair, not yours."

  Certainly the lady's slightly illogical indignation made her looksupremely lovely. Mr. Franklyn recognised this fact with a sensationwhich was both novel and curious. Even in that moment of perturbation,he told himself that it would never be his fate to have such abeautiful creature breathing burning words for love of him. While hewondered what to answer, Miss Wentworth interposed, rising from herchair to do so.

  "Daisy is quite right, Mr. Franklyn. Don't play the game which the catplays with the mouse by making lumbering attempts to, what is called,break it gently. If you have bad news, tell it out like a man! Youwill find that the feminine is not necessarily far behind themasculine animal in fibre."

  Mr. Franklyn looked from one young woman to the other, and felthimself ill-used. He had known them both for quite a tale of years;and yet he felt, somehow, as if he were becoming really acquaintedwith them for the first time now.

  "You misjudge me, Miss Strong, and you, Miss Wentworth, too. Thedifficulty which I feel is how to tell you, as we lawyers say, withoutprejudice, exactly what there is to tell. As I said, the situation issuch an odd one. I must begin by asking you a question. Has either ofyou heard of the affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet'sdiamonds?"

  "The affair of the robbery of the Duchess of Datchet's diamonds?"

  Miss Strong repeated his words, passing her hand over her eyes, as ifshe did not understand. Miss Wentworth, however, made it quickly plainthat she did.

  "I have; and so of course has Daisy. What of it?"

  "This. An addle-headed detective, named John Ireland, has got hold ofa wild idea that Cyril knows something about it."

  Miss Wentworth gave utterance to what sounded like a half-stifledexclamation.

  "I guessed as much! What an extraordinary thing! I had been readingabout it just before Mr. Paxton came in last night, and when he begantalking in a mysterious way about his having made a quarter of amillion at a single coup--precisely the amount at which the diamondswere valued--it set me thinking. I suppose I was a fool."

  For Miss Wentworth's quickness in guessing his meaning Mr. Franklynhad been unprepared. If she, inspired solely by the evidence of herown intuitions, had suspected Mr. Paxton, what sort of a case mightnot Mr. Ireland have against him? But Miss Strong's sense ofperception was, apparently, not so keen. She looked at her companionsas a person might look who is groping for the key of a riddle.

  "I daresay I am stupid. I did read something about some diamonds beingstolen. But--what has that to do with Cyril?"

  Mr. Franklyn glanced at Miss Wentworth as if he thought that she mightanswer. But she refrained. He had to speak.

  "In all probability the whole affair is a blunder of Ireland's."

  "Ireland? Who is Ireland?"

  "John Ireland is a Scotland Yard detective, and, like all such gentry,quick to jump at erroneous conclusions."

  They saw that Miss Strong made a little convulsive movement with herhands. She clenched her fists. She spoke in a low, clear, even tone ofvoice.

  "I see. And does John Ireland think that Cyril Paxton stole theDatchet diamonds?"

  "I fancy that he hardly goes as far as that. From what I was able togather, he merely suspects him of being acquainted with their presentwhereabouts."

  Although Miss Strong did not raise her voice, it rang wit
h scorn.

  "I see. He merely suspects him of that. What self-restraint he shows!And is that John Ireland on the doorstep?"

  "That is a man named Hollier, whom John Ireland was good enough tocommission to keep an eye on me."

  "Why on you? Does he suspect you also?"

  Mr. Franklyn shrugged his shoulders.

  "He knows that I am Cyril's friend."

  "And all Cyril's friends are to be watched and spied upon? I see. Andis Cyril arrested? Is he in prison? Is that the meaning of hisabsence?"

  "Not a bit of it. He seems, temporarily, to have disappeared."

  "And when he reappears I suppose John Ireland will arrest him?"

  "Candidly, Miss Strong, I fear he will."

  "There is something else you fear. And which you fear too!"

  Miss Strong swung round towards Miss Wentworth with an imperiousgesture. Her rage, despite it being tinged with melodrama, was in itsway sublime. The young lady's astonishing intensity so carried awayher hearers that they probably omitted to notice that there was anyconnection between her words and manner and the words and manner of,say, the transpontine drama.

  "You fear, both of you, that what John Ireland suspects is true. Youfeel that Cyril Paxton, the man I love, who would not suffer himselfto come into contact with dishonour, whose shoestrings you are neitherof you worthy to unloose--you fear that he may have soiled his handswith sordid crime. I see your fear branded on your faces--looking fromyour eyes. You cravens! You cowards! You unutterable things! To dareso to prejudge a man who, as yet, has had no opportunity to know evenwhat it is with which you charge him!"

  Suddenly Miss Strong devoted her particular attention to MissWentworth. She pointed her words with a force and a directness whichensured their striking home.

  "As for you, now I know what it was you meant last night; what it waswhich in your heart you accused him of, but which your tongue did notdare to quite bring itself to utter. And you have pretended to be myfriend, and yet you are so swift to seek to kill that which you knowis dearer than life to the man whom I love and hold in honour. Sinceyour friendship is plainly more dangerous than your enmity, in thefuture we'll be enemies, openly, avowedly, for never again I'll callyou friend of mine!"

  Miss Wentworth moved forward, exclaiming--

  "Daisy!"

  But Miss Strong moved back.

  "Don't speak to me! Don't come near to me! If you touch me, womanthough I am, and woman though you are, I will strike you!"

  Since Miss Strong seemed to mean exactly what she said, MissWentworth, deeming, under certain given circumstances, discretion tobe the better part of valour, held her peace. Miss Strong, havingannihilated Miss Wentworth, one could but hope to her entiresatisfaction, redirected her attention to the gentleman.

  "And you pretended to be Cyril's friend! Heaven indeed preserve usfrom our friends, it is they who strike the bitterest blows! This onlyI will say to you. You have the courage of your opinions when there'sno courage wanted, but were Cyril Paxton this moment to enter the roomyou would no more dare to hint to him what you have dared to hint tome, than you would dare to fly."

  Then, recollecting herself, with exquisite sarcasm Miss Strongapologised for having confused her meaning.

  "I beg your pardon, Mr. Franklyn, a thousand times. I said exactly thecontrary of what I wished to say. Of course, if Cyril did enter theroom, there is only one thing which you would dare to do, dare to fly.I leave you alone together, in the complete assurance that I amleaving you to enjoy the perfect communion of two equal minds."

  Miss Strong moved towards the door. Mr. Franklyn interposed.

  "One moment, Miss Strong. Where are you going?"

  "To look for Cyril. Do you object? I will try to induce him not tohurt you, when I find him."

  "You understand that you will have to endure the ignominy of havingthe man outside following you wherever you may go."

  "Ignominy, you call it! Why, the man may actually be to me as aprotection from my friends."

  "You use hard words. I enter into your feelings sufficiently tounderstand that, from your own point of view, they may not seem to beunjustified. But at the same time I am sufficiently your friend, andCyril's friend, to decline to allow you, if I can help it, to throwdust in your own eyes. That Cyril has been guilty of actual theft, Ido not for a moment believe. That he may have perpetrated someegregious blunder, I fear is possible. I know him probably as well asyou do. I know John Ireland too, and I am persuaded that he would notbring a charge of this kind without having good grounds to go upon.Indeed, I may tell you plainly--slurring over the truth will do nogood to any one--Cyril is known to have been in actual possession ofone of the missing jewels."

  "I don't believe it."

  "Best assured you will do good neither to Cyril's cause nor to yourown by a refusal to give credence to actual facts. It is only factswhich a judge and jury can be induced to act upon. Satisfactorilyexplain them if you can, but do not suppose that you will be able toimpress other people with the merits of your cause by declining tobelieve in their existence. I do entreat you to be advised by mebefore, by some rash, if well-meaning act, you do incalculablemischief to Cyril and yourself."

  "Thank you, Mr. Franklyn, but one does not always wish to be advisedeven by one's legal adviser. Just now I should be obliged by yourconfining yourself to answering questions. Perhaps you will be so goodas to tell me where I am most likely to find John Ireland, thatimmaculate policeman?"

  "When I left him he was just going to Makell's Hotel to make inquiriesas to Cyril's whereabouts upon his own account."

  "Then I will go to Makell's Hotel to make inquiries of John Irelandupon my account."

  "In that case you must excuse me if I come with you. I warn you again,that if you are not careful you may do Cyril more mischief than youhave any notion of."

  "I shall come too."

  This was Miss Wentworth. Miss Strong bowed.

  "If you will, you will. Evidently the man on the doorstep is notlikely to serve me as an adequate protection against my friends."

  Miss Strong put on her hat and mackintosh in what was probably one ofthe shortest times on record. Miss Wentworth generally dressed morequickly than her friend; on such an occasion she was not likely to beleft behind. The curious procession of three passed through the doorand down the steps in Indian file, Miss Strong first, Mr. Franklynlast.

  At the bottom of the steps stood Mr. Hollier. The leader looked him upand down.

  "Is your name Hollier?"

  The man touched his hat.

  "That's my name, miss."

  "I am Daisy Strong, Mr. Cyril Paxton's promised wife." She seemed on asudden to be fond of advertising the fact. "I am going to look for Mr.Paxton now. You may, if you choose, play the part of spy, and followme; but let me tell you that if he comes to harm through you, orthrough any of your associates, there'll be trouble."

  "I see, miss."

  Mr. Hollier grinned, hurting, as it seemed, the lady's sense ofdignity.

  "I don't know what you see to smile at. A woman has given a mansufficient cause for tears before to-day. You may find, in your owncase, that she will again."