VII
THE QUEEN'S PEARLS
Roger also had a secret that Sunday. He waited for Beverley and Clo tobe gone (reminding his wife that she had promised to be back by four)and then called up the Belmont Hotel by telephone.
"Give me Count Lovoresco's room," he said, and presently a foreignconception of the word "Hello!" rumbled through the receiver.
"Hello, Count," Roger replied, recognizing the voice. "My wife's safelyoff. I'll send my own car round at once. Now you've got the letter ofconfirmation we can settle our business. What? You're ready? Thank you.My man'll be at the hotel as soon as you can get down. Good-bye."
Fifteen minutes later a dark, dapper, elderly man with magnificent eyeswas ushered into Roger's study.
"You've brought the pearls, of course?" Roger asked.
"Yes, Mistaire Sand, I bring ze pearls," announced Count Lovoresco.
"And the letter from the Queen?"
"From 'er Majesty's secretaire," Count Lovoresco corrected. "'Ere itis." He drew from a breast pocket a square envelope with a crown and amonogram on the flap. This he handed to Sands, and as the latter openedit, he took from another pocket a purple velvet box, oval in shape,about eight inches long by two in height. On the cover appeared a goldcrown, and the same monogram as that of the envelope. Roger had seenthis box and its contents; so, instead of watching a tiny gold keyfitted into a miniature padlock, he read the letter authorizing CountLovoresco, in the name of his Queen, to sell in America a rope ofpearls, for the benefit of the soldiers' orphans of her country.
"This clears the deck," remarked Roger. The cover of the oval box wasraised, and lying in a series of concentric grooves he saw the pearlswhich he intended to buy for Beverley. They were two hundred and fiftyin number, as he knew, and were graduated in size, the largest being asbig as a giant pea. All were exquisitely matched in shape and colour,and the one fault--if fault existed--was a blue whiteness disliked bysome connoisseurs. Roger was aware, however, that Beverley lovedsnow-white pearls.
"Any minute Simon Lecourt may be here," he said to Lovoresco. "When he'slooked at the things, I'll sign and hand you my cheque for two hundredand sixty thousand dollars."
Lovoresco smiled under his dyed moustache, but the wonderful eyes, forwhich men of his race are famous, lit angrily.
"You are ze most prudent of gentlemen!" he exclaimed. "Your greatFranco-American pearl expert, 'e 'as valued ze pearls one time alreadyat 'is own place, under your eye, Mistaire Sand. Now 'e 'as to come toyour 'ouse! Mazette! But you must tink me a smart one, saire, if I couldchange false tings for real in ze last minute!"
"I think some other smart men might have changed them without you or mebeing smart enough to know the difference," Roger explained. "I believein making a ship watertight before she goes to sea."
"You are right," Lovoresco said, shrugging his shoulders. "I am pleasedonce more to meet ze expert."
"Mr. Simon Lecourt," announced the butler.
At a quarter to four--the cheque having been signed--Roger was shakinghands with the jewel expert he had summoned, and bowing to CountLovoresco. The pearls were his, and he was impatient for Beverley. Infive or six minutes she ought to arrive.
Beverley stepped into the lift as Count Lovoresco and Simon Lecourtstepped out. As they passed she heard Roger's name, and her heartjumped. These were strangers to her, but they had perhaps been callingon Roger. What if they were connected with the past terror which hadbegun lately to seem as dim as a dreadful dream? What if they had beentelling Roger?
Such a thought would not have come, save for the scene she had gonethrough. With her nerves keyed to breaking point she went up to her ownfloor with somewhat the sensation she might have had in stepping fromthe tumbril to the guillotine. It was all she could do not to scream atSister Lake in the hall; and when Roger appeared also it seemed toBeverley that she would faint.
Roger did not share the nurse's interest in Clo's outing; but he wantedBeverley.
"Good girl!" he exclaimed, trying to be gay. "You're back ahead of time.Send one of the servants down with money for Miss Riley. Come into thestudy; I've got something to show you. When you've seen it you'll knowwhy I asked you to be home by four."
"I'll be there in a minute!" Beverley answered. "Let me take off my hatfirst. I've rather a headache!"
She turned toward her room, hoping that Roger would wait in the study,thus giving her a chance to find what she had to find, and take it toClo in the waiting auto. But Roger, remorseful already for his disloyalthought connecting her with O'Reilly, followed.
"If you'd a prophetic soul," he said, "your headache would go. Are yougood at guessing, Bev?"
The girl was at her wits' end. Already she had almost fibbed, inexplaining Clo's errand. If only, now, she could have five minutes'grace!
"You ought to know I never guess anything right!" she laughed. "It's notquite four. Show me the wonderful thing just as the clock strikes!"
Roger pulled out his watch. "All right, baby!" he teased her. "You'vegot just three minutes and a half. Perhaps you think a woman needs thattime to take off her hat; I'll show you you're wrong!"
He neatly extracted a hat pin which Beverley had twisted into her veil.Then off came the hat. Roger led his wife by the hand to the door of hisstudy. Beverley was in despair. Her one cause for thankfulness lay inthe fact that he had forgotten Clo. If he'd remembered to send downmoney, the girl would have been bewildered, and perhaps have come in toask for instructions. There was room in Beverley's brain for no otherthought than "How am I to get that parcel and give it to Clo?"
"Shut your eyes," said Roger. "The clock's going to strike four now;don't open your eyes till it stops."
Beverley obeyed, as in that mood she would have obeyed an order to standstill and be shot through the heart. "One--two," slowly struck thegrandfather clock in the corner; and she felt something cool and heavydropped over her neck. "Three--four!" the clock finished. "Open youreyes," Roger gave the signal.
"Oh!" cried Beverley, almost aghast. On her delicate gray dress thedouble line of pearls glistened like huge drops of dew on a spider-web.The rope hung down below her waist, and each pearl had a light in itsheart as if it held the ghost of a rainbow. "It can't be true! It's adream!" the girl stammered. She loved pearls, and knew that these weremarvels beyond common knowledge. But oh, if they could have come to herat another time!
She managed, however, to put a world of emotion into one kiss and claspof her arms. Her silent anguish was disguised as awe. By this time shehad an inspiration. She felt like the Queen of New York, she said. Shemust run to her room for a look in the glass, as there was only a weirdold convex mirror in the study. In just a minute--or maybe twominutes--she would come back. She could have sobbed out "Thank God!"when Roger, laughing at her vanity, let her go. This time he did notfollow. He stood examining the purple velvet case with the Queen's crownand monogram. He had not told Beverley the price he had given for thepearls. He wondered if she guessed that they had cost a fortune. Whydidn't she come back?
Beverley had not even thrown a glance at the mirror. In her own room shetore open the drawer where her handkerchiefs were kept in rose-scentedsachet cases. The largest of these cases she snatched, throwing thecontents back into the drawer. With fingers that shook, she ripped thetop of the padded silk cushion, and extracted a long envelope sealedwith three gold seals. She would hardly have remembered the Queen'spearls had the rope not caught in the key of the drawer as she turnedhastily to go. Before she could save it, the string broke, and pearlsbig as peas began falling like hailstones.
With a cry, she caught the broken ends of the rope together, dragged itover her head and bundled it into the drawer among scatteredhandkerchiefs. She did not even stop to close the drawer. As for thefallen pearls--a dozen at least--there was no time to think of them, orof what Roger would say when he heard of the accident.
Crushing on her hat, which still lay on the bed where Roger had thrownit, she ran from the room, stuffing the envelope
into her handbag. Luckfavoured her. She got out of the flat and into the lift without beingseen.
When five minutes had passed and Beverley was still away, Roger decidedto join her. He opened the bedroom door, and looked in. Something rolledaway from Roger's foot on the threshold. He stooped and picked the thingup: it was an enormous pearl.
A shock of fear thrilled through him. He thought that news of hispurchase might already have reached the underworld. In these fewminutes, while he calmly waited for Beverley, she might have beenmurdered. Things like that did happen. He stepped on a second pearl, andsaw that others lay on the pale rose carpet. He stood staring. At thefoot of the bed a tall screen had been placed to keep the light fromBeverley's eyes in the morning. What if behind it he should find herlying?
As he braced himself to go and look, Beverley herself came into theroom. It seemed that she shrank at sight of him.
"I thought you'd been kidnapped or killed!" he gasped. "What'shappened?"
"N-n-nothing," she stammered. "It was only--we forgot about Clo--I hadto take her that money. I----" She broke off, seeing the pearl inRoger's hand. "Oh, wasn't it dreadful that the rope snapped?" shehurried on. "I wanted to get back to you quickly. I knew the pearls weresafe here. I just shut the door, and ran down."
"So I see," Roger said drily. All the joy he had felt in his splendidgift was gone.
"What are a few pearls more or less compared to Miss Riley'sconvenience?"
"Oh, Roger!" Beverley burst into tears. "Don't look at me like that!Don't speak to me like that! You think I don't value the pearls? Ido!--for themselves, and for your love! I acted on impulse----"
"Quite so. You've done that before. Don't apologize, my dear girl. It'snot worth it. I care less for the things than you do. Ring for your maidand let her sweep them up. I dare say she'll find them all to-day orto-morrow!"
"No," said Beverley, fighting back the hysterical sobs that choked her."No, I won't have anyone look for the pearls but myself. Unless you,Roger, would show your forgiveness by helping me?"
"I have an appointment," he answered. "I'm late for it now. I shall haveto go at once."
It was not true. He had no appointment. But he felt that he must bealone, and out of doors, in the fresh air.
Clo Riley, returning from her errand at the Hotel Westmorland, did notsee him as she tripped from car to door, but Roger on his way home sawthe girl hurry in as if each second were important. Hardly had shevanished when a man strolled round the corner. He was walking slowly,and looking up at the facade as if interested. Roger, at the farther endof the block, recognized Justin O'Reilly.
The Lion's Mouse Page 7
