Shifting Sands

by Sara Ware Bassett

  Chapter IX

  Sylvia, meanwhile, had heard Stanley Heath call Marcia and hailed heraunt's departure from the kitchen as the opportunity for which she hadso anxiously been waiting.

  No sooner was the elder woman upstairs and out of earshot than shetiptoed from her room, the monogrammed handkerchief in her pocket.

  She had pried out the brick and had the jewel-case in her hand, wrappedand ready for its return when conversation overhead suddenly ceased andshe heard Marcia pass through the hall and start down stairs.

  Sylvia gasped. She must not be found here. Yet what was she to do?

  There was no chance now to put the package back and replace the brickwhich fitted so tightly that its adjustment was a process requiringpatience, care, and time.

  Flustered, frightened, she jammed the jewel-case into her dress andfrantically restoring the brick to the yawning hole in the hearth asbest she could, she fled up the back stairs at the same moment Marciadescended the front ones.

  Once in her room, she closed and locked the door and sank panting into achair to recover her breath.

  Well, at least she had not been caught and in the meantime the jewelswere quite safe.

  Mr. Heath was too ill to be up and about for several days and until hewas able to leave his room there was not the slightest danger theirabsence would be discovered. Long before that time, Marcia woulddoubtless go to walk or to the village for mail and leave her ampleopportunity to put the loot back where Mr. Heath had hidden it.

  She took the case stealthily from her pocket.

  Now that the gems were in her possession, it certainly could do no harmfor her to look at them--even try them on, as she had been tempted todo when she first discovered them. Probably never again in all her lifewould she hold in her hand so much wealth and beauty. No one, not Heathhimself, could begrudge her a peep at the trinkets.

  Accordingly she unwound the handkerchief and opened the box.

  There lay the glistening heap of treasure, resplendent in the sunshine,a far more gorgeous spectacle than she had realized.

  Going to the bureau, Sylvia took out the jewels, one by one.

  She clasped the diamonds about her neck; fastened the emerald brooch inplace; put on the sapphire pendant; then added the rings and looked atherself in the gold-framed mirror.

  What she saw reflected dazzled her. Who would have believed jewels couldmake such a difference in one's appearance? They set off her blondebeauty so that she was suddenly transformed into a princess.

  No wonder Stanley Heath had risked his life and his freedom for spoilssuch as these!

  If she could have only one of the jewels she would be satisfied--thestring of diamonds, the brooch, a ring--which would she choose?

  Of course she never could own anything so gorgeous or so valuable.Notwithstanding the certainty, however, it was fun to imagine she might.

  Slowly, and with conscious coquetry, like a preening bird, she turnedher head this way and that, delighting in the creaminess of the neck thegems encircled, and in the fairness of her golden curls.

  She really ought to have jewels. She was born for them and could carrythem off. There were myriad women in the world on whom such adornmentwould be wasted--good and worthy women, too. Fancy Maria Eldridge orSusan Ann Bearse, for instance, arrayed in pomp like this! But Marciawould be magnificent, with her rich complexion, her finely poised head,her splendid shoulders, her lovely neck. Marcia dressed in all thiswealth would be well worth looking at.

  Then a voice interrupted her reverie.

  It was Stanley Heath calling.

  She heard Marcia reply and come hurrying upstairs.

  Guiltily Sylvia took off her sparkling regalia; tumbled itunceremoniously into its case; and slipped it into the drawer underneatha pile of nightdresses. Then she softly unlocked the door and saunteredout.

  It was none too soon, for Marcia was speaking to her.

  "Sylvia?"

  "Yes."

  "How would you feel about going over to the village for the mail andto do some errands? The tide is out and you could walk. Prince needs arun."

  "I'd love to go."

  "That's fine. Here is a list of things we need at the store. Just besure not to dally too long and get marooned over in town."

  "I'll watch out."

  "You're sure you don't mind going?"

  "No, indeed. I shall enjoy being out."

  Then suddenly Sylvia had an inspiration which she instantly acted upon.

  "Why don't you go?" she inquired. "You didn't sleep much last night, anda walk might do you good."

  "Oh, I couldn't," objected Marcia with haste. "I've a hundred and onethings to do."

  "Tell me what they are and I'll do them for you."

  "I couldn't. They are things I must do myself. Thanks just the same."

  "Well, you know your own business best. Is this the list?"

  "Yes. There are quite a few items, but they won't be heavy. Here is thebasket. Prince will carry it. That is his job and very proud he is ofdoing it. Goodbye, dear."

  "She's dreadfully anxious to get us out of the way, isn't she, Prince?"commented young Sylvia as she and the setter started out over the sand."Now what do you suppose she has on her mind? She's up to something.Marcia isn't a bit of an actress. She's too genuine."

  Marcia, standing at the window watching the girl in her blue sweaterand matching beret swing along over the flats mirrored with tiny poolsof water, would have been astonished enough had she heard this astuteobservation.

  She did want Sylvia out of the way. The girl had read her correctly.

  She must telephone the messages to the station-master at Sawyer Falls,the adjoining town where the railroad ended and the nearest telegraphstation was.

  She got the line and had no sooner dictated the telegrams than she heardHeath's voice.

  During the interval that had elapsed since she had left him, both ofthem had experienced a reaction and each was eager to make amends.

  Marcia regretted her flippancy. It had been childish of her to give wayto pique and punish Heath simply because it was proved he had a wife.Why should he not be married? No doubt the absent Mrs. Stanley Heath wasa dashing, sophisticated beauty, too, who lived in luxury at the greatcity hotel to which the first wire had been sent.

  Heath had been quite frank about the message and its destination. Onthinking matters over, it occurred to Marcia he might have consideredthis the easiest way to inform her of things he found it embarrassing toput into words.

  She had been made aware in delicate fashion that he was rich, marriedand moved in a circle far removed from the humble one she herselfoccupied.

  No doubt he felt she should realize this.

  It regulated their relationship and prevented any possiblemisunderstandings.

  And she?

  Instead of appreciating his honesty, chivalry, gentlemanly conduct asshe should have done, and receiving it graciously, surprise had betrayedher into displaying resentment.

  She was heartily ashamed of herself. No matter how much it humbled herpride, she must put things right. Fortunately it was not too late to doso.

  Therefore, a very different Marcia Howe responded to Stanley Heath'ssummons.

  She was now all gentleness, friendliness, and shyly penitent. If herformer coquetry had been bewitching, this new artless self of hers was ahundredfold more alluring.

  Stanley, again master of himself, welcomed her with amazement. Could manever fathom a woman's moods, he asked himself? Why this chastened anddistractingly adorable Marcia?

  It was he who had been in the wrong and given way to temper, yet insteadof demanding the apology which trembled on his tongue, here she wastaking the blame and passing over his irritability with the charity of amother humoring a fretful child.

  Well, if he could not fathom her, he at least was grateful for herunderstanding.

  Nevertheless he did mentally observe he had not dreamed her to be somany-sided or credited her with a tithe the fascinations he
had sounexpectedly discovered her to possess.

  "Here I am, Mr. Heath. What can I do for you?" was her greeting.

  This time she did not hesitate, but went directly to the chair besidehis bed and sat down. He smiled and, meeting his eyes, she smiled back.This was better. Heath sighed a sigh of relief.

  "I've been thinking, since you went down stairs, about Currier. He oughtto arrive late tonight or early tomorrow morning. He will start themoment he gets my wire. Although he will not know in which house I amquartered, he will have the wit to inquire, for he has more than theordinary quota of brains. I don't know what I should do without him. Hehas been with me for years and is an Admirable Crichton and a good manFriday rolled into one. I shall have him leave the car in the villageand after he has delivered over the clothing he is to bring, he can takethe noon train back to New York, carrying the jewels with him."

  "I see," nodded Marcia.

  She did not see.

  She did not understand any of the snarl of events in which sounwittingly she found herself entangled.

  Nevertheless she heartily welcomed the intelligence that the jewels withtheir damning evidence, if evidence it was, were to be removed from thehouse. The sooner they were out of the way the better. If they were notdamning evidence they at least were a great responsibility.

  Suppose something were to happen to them? Suppose somebody suspectedthey were in the house?

  The thought had occurred to her more than once.

  "So," continued Stanley Heath, "I think sometime today when you have agood opportunity you'd better get the case and bring it up here. I shallthen have it here in my room and I can hand it over to Currier withoutany trouble."

  "I'll go and fetch it now. Sylvia has gone to the village and this is asplendid chance," cried Marcia.

  "Fine!"

  "I'll be right back."

  He heard her speed down the stairs and listened to her step in the roombelow.

  Then there was silence.

  A few moments later she came racing back, white and breathless.

  "They're gone!" she cried. "The place is empty! The jewels are notthere!"

  Her terror and the fear lest her pallor foreshadowed collapse producedin Heath that artificial calm one sometimes sees when a strong naturereins itself in and calls upon its reserve control.

  Marcia had fallen to her knees beside the bed and buried her face,trembling with agitation.

  The man thought only of how to quiet her. Reaching out, he touched herhair.

  "Hush, Marcia. The jewels will be found. Don't give way like this. Icannot bear to see you. The whole lot of them are not worth your tears."

  "But you left them in my care. It was I who suggested where to hidethem," she moaned.

  "I know. And it was a splendid idea, too. Besides, we had no time tohunt hiding-places. We were forced to act right away. I could not letthat sheriff of yours peel off my clothes and find the diamonds on me.He isn't a man of sufficient imagination--or perhaps he is one of fartoo much. I am not blaming you,--not in the least. We did the best wecould in the emergency. If things have gone wrong, it is no fault ofyours."

  "But you trusted me. I ought to have watched. I should not have left thekitchen day or night," declared Marcia, lifting her tear-stained face tohis.

  "You have been there most of the time, haven't you?"

  "I went to see them get the boat off yesterday."

  "Still, someone was here. Sylvia was in the house."

  "Yes, but she knew nothing about the jewels and therefore may not haverealized the importance of staying on deck. How could she, unless shehad been warned? All I asked her to do was to remain within call. Shemay have gone upstairs, or into another room."

  "When she comes back, you can ask her."

  It was he who now soothed and cheered, his caressing hand moving fromher shoulder down her arm until her fingers lay in his.

  Convulsively she caught and clung to them.

  "Now we must pull ourselves together, dear," went on Stanley gently. "Itis important that we do not give ourselves away. Sylvia may know nothingand if she does not, we must not let her suspect. The fewer people thereare mixed up in this dilemma the better."

  "Yes."

  She rose but he still held her hand, a common misery routing everythought of conventionality.

  The firmness and magnetism of his touch brought strength. It was anew experience, for during her life with Jason, Marcia had been theoak--the one who consoled, sustained. For a few delicious moments, shelet herself rest, weary and unresisting, within the shelter of StanleyHeath's grasp. Then she drew away and, passing her hand across herforehead as if awaking from a dream murmured:

  "I'd better go down. Sylvia will be coming."

  "Very well. Now keep a stiff upper lip. Remember, I depend on you to seethe apple-cart does not upset."

  "I will--I'll do my best."

  Even as she spoke the outer door opened, then closed with a bang.

  "There's Sylvia now. I must go."

  The girl came in, aglow from her walk.

  "I'm awfully sorry I banged the door," she apologized. "A gust of windtook it. I do hope I didn't wake up Mr. Heath. Here's the marketing. Ithought I should never get out of that store. Everybody in the wholetown was there for mail and I had to stop and tell each one all aboutMr. Heath and his shipwreck, his boat and his health. I must haveanswered a million questions. People are dreadfully curious about him.

  "And Marcia, what do you suppose? I had a letter from HortieFuller--that fellow back home that I've told you about. He's sent me afive-pound box of candy and he wants to come to Wilton and spend hissummer vacation."

  The girl's eyes were shining and she breathed quickly.

  "Of course I don't care a button for Hortie. Still, it would be rathergood fun to see him. He always dropped in every day when I was at home.It seems ages since I've laid eyes on him. You know how it is--you getused to a person who is always under foot. You have to think about himif only to avoid stepping on him. And after all, Hortie isn't so bad.Thinking him over from a distance, he really is rather nice. Come andsample the candy. It's wonderful. He must have blown himself and sent toChicago for it, poor dear! I suppose Eben Snow read the address, becausehe called out 'Guess you've got a beau out West, Miss Sylvia.' Everybodyheard him and I thought I should go through the floor. He looked theletter all over, too. I'll let you see the letter, all except the partwhich is too frightfully silly. You wouldn't care about that. I don'tmyself."

  Sylvia shrugged her shoulders.

  Alas, this was no moment to talk with her, and artfully draw from herthe happenings of the previous day.

  Inwardly distraught but outwardly calm, Marcia took the letter and triedvaliantly to focus her attention upon it.

  To her surprise, it was a manly, intelligent letter, filled with towngossip, to be sure, yet written in delightfully interesting fashion.

  "Your Mr. Fuller sounds charming," she said as she gave it back.

  "Oh, Hortie is all right--in some ways." Patronizingly slipping theletter into her pocket, Sylvia shifted the subject. Nevertheless, abetraying flush colored her cheeks. "Now we must start dinner, mustn'twe? See, it's noon already. I had no idea it was so late."

  She tossed her hat into a chair.

  "Don't you want to ask Mr. Heath which way he prefers his eggs--poachedor boiled? I suppose with a temperature, he isn't going to be allowedanything but simple food. And Marcia, while you're there, do put a pairof fresh pillow-slips on his pillows. The ones he has are frightfullytumbled. I meant to do it this morning."

  As the door closed behind the elder woman, artful young Sylvia smiled.

  "There! That will keep her busy for a few moments at least. I know thosepillow-cases. They fit like a snake's skin and are terribly hard to getoff and on."

  She crept into the hall and listened.

  Yes, Marcia and Stanley Heath were talking. She could hear her aunt'sgentle insistence and the man's protests. That was all she wished tok
now. The pillow-cases were in process of being taken off.

  Up the stairs flew Sylvia, to return a second later, the jewel-caseswathed in its loose wrappings.

  "If I can only scramble it in there before she comes," whispered she. "Ishall draw the first long breath I've taken since last night. I wouldn'town those things if they were given me. They would worry me into mygrave."

  An anxious interval elapsed before the brick was pried out and thecase slipped beneath it. Nevertheless the feat was accomplished andtriumphant, relieved, happy Sylvia set about preparing dinner.

  She even ventured to hum softly that when Marcia returned she might findher entirely serene.

  "Mr. Heath, alas, will never know how becoming his jewelry was to me,"she mused. "Had a Hollywood producer seen me, he would have snapped meup for a movie star within ten minutes. I certainly looked the part."

  What a long while Marcia was staying upstairs! Why, one could change adozen pillow-slips in this time.

  "I guess they are tighter than I remembered them. I needn't have rushedas I did," pouted Sylvia. "What can she be doing?"

  When at last Marcia returned, something evidently was wrong.

  "What's the matter?" demanded Sylvia. "Is Mr. Heath worse?"

  "Worse? No indeed. What made you think so?"

  "You look fussed."

  "Do I? You'd be fussed had you wrestled with those pillow-slips as Ihave," was the reply. "Either the pillows have swelled or the cases haveshrunk frightfully. Well, they are on now, anyway."

  "Come and get dinner then. I'm starved. My walk has made me hungry as abear. You must go out this afternoon, Marcia. It is a glorious day andyou need to be pepped up. I know what staying in the house means. Didn'tI sit in this kitchen all yesterday afternoon until I got so dopey Icould scarcely keep my eyes open? Not that I wasn't glad to," she addedhastily. "I never mind staying in when there is a reason for doing it,and of course I want to do my bit toward taking care of Mr. Heath.Still, indoors isn't the same as outdoors. We all need exercise. I'vehad my quota for the day. You must have yours."

  To her surprise, Marcia demurred.

  "Thank you, dear, but I think I won't go out today."

  "Why not?"

  "I don't feel like it. I'd rather sit here and read."

  "Nonsense, Marcia! You're getting middle-aged and lazy. You'll lose yournice slim, hipless figure if you don't watch out."

  "I guess I shan't lose it today. Soon Mr. Heath will be gone and we canboth go."

  "But I can play nurse for the afternoon."

  "I'm too tired to go out."

  "The air would rest you."

  "Not today, dear," Marcia said with finality. "I have some mending to doand lots of other little things that I have been saving up for a longtime. Since I prefer to stay, why don't you tramp up the shore and see_My Unknown Lady_? She is beautiful and you haven't seen her yet."

  "I'd love to--if I cannot coax you to go out."

  "You can't. I'm adamant on not stirring out of this room."

  "Well, if your mind is made up to that extent, I suppose there is no usein my trying to change it. I would like to see the boat."

  "I'm sure you would. Stay as long as you like. There will be nothing todo here. Somebody ought to enjoy the sunshine and blue sky. Mr. Heathwill probably sleep and in the meantime I shall get my sewing done."

  As Marcia spoke the words, her mind was busy.

  So Sylvia had not stirred from the kitchen on the previous afternoon!The theft of the jewels must, then, have taken place during the night.

  Nevertheless, she was puzzled, for she had no memory of finding anythingawry when she came down at sunrise to lay the fire.

  Moreover, she now recalled she had been in the kitchen several timesduring the night, heating soup and getting water for Stanley Heath.

  There had been nothing wrong then, at least she had noticed nothing.

  When had the gems been taken, and who had taken them? No wonder shecraved solitude to ponder the conundrum! This, however, was not theparamount reason she desired to be alone.

  Despite the enigma of the jewels; despite the mystery surroundingStanley Heath, deep in her heart something that would not be stilled wassinging--singing!