by Berta Ruck
CHAPTER XXXIII
MISS MILLION HAS AN IDEA!
"WHATEVER in the wide world is young Jim up to now!" exclaimed London'sLove, when at last the heavy hall door was closed upon the motoringladies, the rectory party, and the two girls from across the valley.
Miss Million's face was rather more serious than usual.
"'Ere! I have an idea about that, Vi," she said. "And you, Smith,listen. It's just occurred to me." She glanced about the darkened hallwith the stags' heads and the suit of armour.
"You know I shall never be able to trust that Mr. Burke again. He let medown. Now what if he's lettin' all of us down?
"F'rinstance, a young man like that, with heaps of friends with plentyof money, and always able to do as he likes up to now, what's he mean bysuddenly taking on a situation as a common shoveer?"
"Ar!" responded England's Premier Comedienne, who has often made thestalls rock with laughter over the concentrated meaning which she caninfuse into that one monosyllable long-drawn-out.
"Ar!" She turned upon me the wink that delights the gallery, then saiddryly: "What's _your_ idea, Nellie?"
"Why, I believe he's no more nor less than a common robber and burglar!A sort of Raffles, like in that play," declared Miss Million in a soft,excited whisper.
"'Twouldn't surprise me a bit if he'd disguised himself like that, andgone into service with that frosty-face, stuck-up Miss Davis that wascalling just because he wanted to get his footing in a wealthy housewhere there was heaps of valuables, and cetrer.
"Here's this Miss Davis got more than a bit of her own, evident! And didyou notice the string o' pearls? She'll have more of those sort ofthings at home, I bet you," said Million, adding with impressivehoarseness, "I believe that's what he's after. Jewels!!"
"What? Jim?" Miss Vi Vassity gave a slow, enjoying laugh. "Him?Likerly!"
"Ah, he's got round you, Vi. I believe you've got a soft corner for himin your heart still, however much of a rotter the man is, but I'm off,dead off.
"More than that, it wouldn't surprise me," continued my mistress, stillin her impressive tone, "if I'm not far off guessing who took theRattenheimer ruby that me and Smith's in this fix about!"
"Ah, go on!" said Miss Vi Vassity, striking a match for her cigaretteagainst the minnow-shaped sole of her gilt boot. "Are you goin' to goand believe that my pal Jim sneaked that and then saw you and her introuble for it? Do you believe that, Smithie?"
"I don't," I said, without hesitation.
Miss Million said defiantly: "Think it over! Think it over! He wasalways in and out of the hotel, was that Mr. Burke. He was hobnobbingwith the Rattenheimers and one and another all day long.
"And he wanted the money. We've proof of that! And he's none tooparticular about how he gets it! Why, you yourself, Vi. You know he owesyou pounds and pounds and pounds at this minute that he's 'borrowed,'and goodness knows how he intends to pay you back!
"You know he's got the cheek of the Old Gentleman himself! And,"concluded my young mistress, with a look of shrewdness on her face thatI imagine must have been inherited from the late Mr. Samuel Million, "ifhe isn't the one who stole the ruby, WHO IS?"
A violent ring at the hall-door bell made the finish to this peroration.
I opened the door to a small, freckle-faced telegraph boy.
"For Miss Smith," he said in the pretty, up-and-down Welsh accent thatis such a rest after Cockney. I took the wire. I wondered if it was AuntAnastasia again.
It wasn't.
It was something very much more exciting. The wire was signed "ReginaldBrace," and it said: "I am coming down by the nine o'clock trainto-night. Jewel mystery cleared up."
Oh, how can it have been cleared up? What is the solution of themystery? To think that at least four and a half hours must elapse beforewe know!
Really, I do think Mr. Reginald Brace might have had pity on our burningcuriosity and anxiety! I do think he might have given some hint, in thiswire of his, as to who did really steal that wretched ruby!
"Well, s'long as it's all cleared up that it wasn't us that done it,that ought to be comfort enough to us," said my mistressphilosophically, as I was fastening her into the blush-pink tea-gown fordinner. We've put dinner on an hour late since our visitor is comingdown so late.
"Though, mark my words, Smith," she continued, "it wouldn't surprise meone bit if that young gentleman of yours from the bank brought down thatmute-of-a-funeral from Scotland Yard to tell Miss Davis's new shoveerthat _he_ was wanted by the police this time!"
"We'll see," I said, smiling.
For the Honourable Jim's faults may be as thick and as black as thehairs of the Honourable Jim's head. But of this other thing I feel hecould not be capable.
"It used to be me that thought you was too hard on that Mr. Burke,Smith. Now here you are turning round and won't hear a word against theman," said my mistress, half laughing. "You're as pigheaded as Vi aboutit! And, talking about Vi, here's this packet of golden hairpins she'sleft in here; she was lookin' all over for them this afternoon. Bettertake them in to her now."
It was on this errand that I entered the spare room that has beenassigned to London's Love.
She was sitting in a cerulean-blue dressing-jacket in front of thelooking-glass, drawing a tiny brush, charged with lamp-black, across hereyelashes, and using "language," as she calls it, over the absence ofelectric lights by which to dress.
"I shall look a perfect sketch at dinner, see if I don't. Not that itmatters a twopenny dash, me not being the bill-topper in any sense inthis revue," said England's Premier Comedienne cheerily. "It's thepretty little lady's-maid's charming scena with the young bank manager.Tell me, Smithie----" Here she turned abruptly round and looked at mesharply. "Been thinking over his proposal, have you? Going to take him,are you?"
"I--er----"
"I--er--shouldn't if I was you!"
"You wouldn't?" I said interestedly. "Why not?"
London's Love put down the make-up brush and scanned her own appearancein the glass. Then she got up as if to fetch a frock out of thewardrobe. But she paused, put a small, highly manicured butcapable-looking hand on each of my shoulders, and said, holding me so:"You don't like him, Kiddy."
"Oh! But I do! So much!" I protested. "I think Mr. Brace is everythingnice ... I think he would make such a splendid husband! He's so steady,and honourable, and sterling, and straight, and kind, and simple-minded,and reliable, and----"
"Ah! Poppycock!" cried the comedienne, with her loud, indulgent laugh."You're just stringing off a list of aggravating things that a girlmight put up with in a man if--if, mind you!--she was head over ears inlove with him as well. But, great Pip! Fancy marrying a man for thosethings!
"Why, what d'you suppose it would be like? I ought to know," sheanswered herself before I, rather surprised, could say anything. "One ofthose 'sterling' young men that never gave his mother an hour'sanxiety; one of those reliable, simple-minded fellers that you alwaysknew what he was goin' to say an' do next; always came home to tea onthe dot, and 'never cared to wander from his own fireside'--that's whatI was talked into marryin' by my aunts when I was a kid of eighteen,"said Miss Vi Vassity quite bitterly.
"Oh, were you?" I cried, astonished. "I never knew----"
"Yes, that was my first husband. Answered to the name of Bert--Albert.Very good position in the waterworks in our town at home," said London'sLove.
"A real good husband he was. Lor', how he did used to aggravate me! It'sa good many years ago, Smithie, and I've almost forgotten what he lookedlike. I can just call to mind the way he used to snuffle when he had acold in the head; shocking colds he used to catch, but he would alwaysget up and light the kitchen fire to get me an early cup o' tea, nomatter what the weather was. That I will say for him. The man Iremember, though--he was pretty different!"
There was a silence in the countrified-looking bedroom that themusic-hall artiste had filled with the atmosphere of a theatricald
ressing-room. Then England's Premier Comedienne went on in a softer,more diffident voice than I had ever heard from her.
"He was the young man that jilted Vi Vassity a good deal later on. Atrick cyclist he was.... Small, but beautifully built fellow, supple asa cat. Bad-tempered as a cat, too! And shifty, and mean in little ways!A cruel little devil, too, but----"
She sighed.
"I fair doted on him!" concluded the Star simply. "Much I cared whatsort of a rotter he was! It's the way a woman's got to feel about a manonce in a lifetime. If she doesn't, she's been done out of the bestthat's going."
"But," I suggested, "she misses a good deal of pain?"
"Yes, and of everything else. Nothing else is worth it, Smithie. Youcan't understand what it was to me just the way his hair grew," said thecomedienne who'd loved the trick cyclist. "Cropped close, of course, andblack. Looked as if a handful of soot had been rubbed over his head. Butsoft as velvet to your lips. I used to tell him that. Never a one fortalking much himself. He'd a trick of speaking almost as if he grudgedyou the words; curious, and shy, and my word! wasn't it fascinatin'?Then he'd give a little laugh in the middle of a sentence sometimes.That used to go to my heart, straight as a pebble into a pool. Yes, andit'd stay there, with the ripple stirring above it. Anybody would haveloved his voice....
"But! Bless my soul alive!" she broke off into her loud, jovial,everyday tone again. "About time I left off maunderin' aboutwhen--other--lips, and threw some glad-rags on to me natural history!I'll wear the marmalade-coloured affair with the dangles.... Well!'Marry the man you fancy,' as it says in the song, and don't let me goputtin' you off any of 'em, Miss Smith----"
But whether the Star did "put me off" by her reminiscences of her trickcyclist with the charming, reluctant voice, or whether it is that I'veslowly been coming round to the conclusion subconsciously in my ownmind, I find that, however estimable he may be, I shall never be able tomarry Mr. Reginald Brace.
No! Not if I have to go on being Miss Million's or somebody else'slady's-maid until I'm old and grey.
I somehow realised that with the first moment that I opened the door tothe tall, mackintoshed figure--it was raining again, of course,outside--Miss Million, very pretty and flushed and eager in herrose-pink tea-gown, followed close upon my heels as I let Mr. Brace in,and behind her came Miss Vi Vassity, sumptuous in the orange satin thatshe calls "the marmalade-coloured affair."
And all three of us, without even bidding the young bank manager "Goodevening," chorused together: "Tell us, for goodness' sake, tell us atonce! Who did steal the Rattenheimer ruby?"
"Nobody!" replied Mr. Reginald Brace, in his pleasant but rather precisevoice, and with his steady grey eyes fixed on me as I, in my inevitablecap and apron, waited to take his coat.
We all gasped "Nobody? What----Why----"
"The Rattenheimer ruby has not been stolen at all," replied Mr. ReginaldBrace, smiling encouragingly upon us.
And then, while we all gaped and gazed upon him, and kept the poorwretched man waiting for his dinner, he went on to tell us the fullhistory of the celebrated ruby.
It appears that an exquisite paste copy has been made of the pricelesspendant, which the German-Jewish owners have kept by them to deludepossible jewel thieves.
And now it is they themselves who have been deluded by the samewonderful replica of the celebrated gem!
For Mrs. Rattenheimer, it appears, imagined that it was the replica thatreposed in her jewel-case, from which the original was missing afterthat fatal ten minutes of carelessness during which she left thatjewel-case and her bedroom door at the Cecil unlocked.
But upon sending that replica to the experts to supplement thedescription of the missing ruby, she was told that an absurd mistake hadbeen made. This, the supposed "copy," was none other than the celebratedruby itself!
"And she didn't know her own property?" Vi Vassity's loud, cheerfulvoice resounded through the hall. "Why, the old girl will be thelaughing-stock of London!"
"Yes. I think Mrs. Rattenheimer realises that herself," said Mr.Reginald Brace. "That is why she and her husband now intend to hush thematter up as much as possible; they do not mean to prosecute inquiriesas to who took the replica."
"Don't they think we done that, then?" asked Miss Million loudly.
"They are dropping all inquiries," said Mr. Brace.
"Then I've a good mind to sue 'em for libel for the inquiries they madealready," said Million heatedly. "I shall consult my----"
Here there was another ring at the bell.
"Talk of angels!" exclaimed my young mistress, as I opened the door to asecond masculine figure in a dripping rain-coat, "why here he is, justthe very person I was going to pass the remark about! It's my cousinHiram!" And it was that young American who strode into the feeble lightof the oil-lamps in the hall.
"I guess I must have been just a few yards behind you before I took thewrong turning to these antediluvian river-courses that they call roads,"said Mr. Hiram P. Jessop to Mr. Brace, while he held Million's littlehand with great tenderness. "Good evening, Cousin Nellie and everybody.If I may shed this damp macintaw, I've a few pieces of startlingnews----"
"For the sake of Lloyd George himself, come into the dinin'-room andlet's have 'em while we're feeding," suggested Miss Vassity.
She grabbed an arm of each young man, and ran them into the room to theright that always smells of country churches.
"Part of the news concerns Miss Smith," added Mr. Jessop, over theupholstery of his shoulder.
"Then in the name of the Insurance Act let's all sit down together andhear it. Not so much nonsense about 'the maid.' We'll pretend we're atthe 'Refuge,' and stretch for ourselves," decreed Vi Vassity, positivelypushing me, in my cap and apron, down into the dining-room chair next toMr. Reginald Brace in his correct tweeds.
"Now! One mouthful of tomato soup, and out with it--the news, I mean."
"To begin with, I guess they've found the jewel thief," announced Mr.Hiram P. Jessop. "That is, she's owned up. So real disgusted, I guess,to find she hadn't secured the genu-ine ruby.
"I've come straight on from Rats himself, who gave me the whole story.She brought round the other one with her own hands, and said she'd takenit for a bet. She always was eccentric.
"Well, I calculate you've got to believe a lady of title," concluded theyoung American between two spoonfuls of soup. "If you can't rely uponyour old aristocracy to tell the truth in this country, who can you relyon?"
"Better ask the Honourable Jim!" laughed Miss Vi Vassity. "And now tellus who's the lady."
"Another acquaintance of yours, Miss Vassity," announced Mr. Jessop,giving the title with an air. "Lady Haye-Golightly!"
Another little buzz of comment greeted the name of the lady whom I hadalways called "the cobra-woman."
And then Mr. Jessop turned from this surprising theme to something thatseemed nearer still to his heart. "Well, and, Cousin Nellie, here's abit of good news. I guess that bomb-dropper of mine is a cinch. Yourauthorities over here are taking it up all right. They're going to useit all right!"
"Oh, are they, Hiram?" said my young mistress in the indulgent tone of agrown-up person discussing its toys with some child. She always adoptsthis tone towards her cousin's invention. "And what do they thinkthey're goin' to use it for, eh?"
The young American looked round the table at each of the faces turnedtowards him.
Then, in a detached tone, he made the announcement of that which was tomake all the difference in the world to all of us.
"I guess they'll use it--in this coming war!"
Well, of course we'd seen "rumours of wars" in the day-old papers thathad reached us in our wet Welsh valley. But a houseful of women reckslittle of newspaper news--or did reck little. It all seemed as far away,as little to do with us as, say, the report of some railway accident inNorthern China!
Now the young inventor's simple words brought it home to us!
