Chapter Two.

Chapter Two.The sea hath its pearls,But none more rareThan the soul of a womanSweet and fair.I found that in a book, darling mine, and it made me think of you. All pearls make me think of you, with their lovely inner light shining and glowing through the faint pink bodies of them.It is your birthday to-day, and I cannot be with you or get you anything here that you would care for. So I am sending you a fifty-pound note. Buy yourself a pearl. Or anything you like. There should be some good jewellers in Kimberley. And send me a pound of Hankey’s, like an angel. Can’t get any here, and haven’t had a decent smoke for a week—Thus Pat Temple, writing to his wife from some far spot on the borders of the Congo. She lay reading the letter among her pillows, and drinking her morning tea. Quotations and tag-ends of verses were not unusual in Pat’s letters. He may not have been what is called a deeply read man. His favourite books wereThe Tower of London,Marcus Aurelius, Buffon,Pickwick Papers, Grimm’sFairy Tales, andThe Cloister and the Hearth. Life kept him too busy to make many new friends in the book line, but his mind had a way of seizing on to phrases and verses, and he never forgot anything he had once read that dealt with woman’s purity or men’s chivalry. Not that he quoted to the world. It was only in letters to his wife that these things sometimes slipped out from the deeps of his heart and mingled themselves with demands for his favourite brands of tobacco.But his little verse this morning did not please Loree. A frown curled her brows. She knew she was not like a pearl. Neither did she want one. She was sick of pearls. They said nothing to her. Only the radiant fire of diamonds could charm her heart and ravish her imagination. She drew her treasures from beneath the pillow and kissed them. For two days and three nights she had owned them now, worn them hidden under her gowns, felt their soft scrape and rustle of them against her skin, drowned her senses in the secret joy of their possession. She was like a creature living under a spell that grew more and more potent every hour. The doors of her heart were closed against every other feeling and emotion. Her mind refused to remember anything she did not want to remember, and her conscience gave her no further trouble. It was either dead or fled.She never asked herself where the diamonds had come from. It was the last thing she wished to know. Enough that they were hers by nine points of the law, and that no living soul had given sign or signal of knowing of their existence. The only fear she felt was that some one might steal them from her, ravish them from her grasp as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come. The peril of Quelch and his burning glances paled before that awful prospect. Besides, she had regained confidence in her power to keep him in hand. Having so far contrived to avoid being alone with him since the night of the theatre, she meant to continue to do so.The morning after she had found the necklace, she feigned illness and stayed in bed all day. Before one o’clock, Quelch had heard of her indisposition and roses began to arrive. The room was almost filled with them—bales of colour, dew, and perfume. Mrs Cork, who walked in on the heels of a maid with a tray, said that they scented the whole hotel and made it smell like the rose garden of Persia.Morning a thousand roses brings, you say?Yes; but where blows the rose of yesterday?she misquoted drily, standing by the bedside. Loree mentally and uncharitably applied the last phrase to her visitor, though in her own roselike beauty, as yet untouched by time, she could have afforded to be generous. But she was cross with Mrs Cork, and wanted her to go away. She knew of more alluring occupations than listening to that lady’s arid remarks. But Valeria had after all something interesting to propound.“You know the Duke of Carrington is out here, don’t you, with the Duchess and their daughter Princess Evelyn?”“Yes. They’re up in Rhodesia now. My husband met them at a reception in Buluwayo.”“Well, they’re passing through Kimberley in three days’ time, and as they are anxious to see the diamonds and the diamond magnates and their wives are anxious to seethem, a ball is to be given in the Royal honour. So every one will be pleased, let us hope.”“But how exciting!” cried Loree ignoring the irony that tinged all Mrs Cork’s remarks. “When is it to be, and where?”“In three nights’ time, here at the Belgrove. The Club will be too small to hold the crush. The invitations are being rushed out, as of course it’s rather sudden and impromptu. I can get you one if you care to come.”“I’d simply love it. I’ve always wanted to see Princess Evelyn. They say she’s perfectly lovely.”“All right. I’ll arrange about it then.”A short silence ensued. Loree’s mind was busily engaged in turning over her evening gowns, putting them on and discarding them one after the other, all except one she had never yet worn—delicious thing, pale and sweet as primroses growing in a field that the Lord had blessed. She gave a sigh of pleasure at the thought of wearing it. Valeria in the meantime gazed wearily around the room as though she hated everything in it, and in the world. Suddenly her gaze fell upon Pat Temple’s photograph.“Ah! So that’s the husband!” said she, and took it up to scrutinise closely. “One of those big, sanguine men, born under Jupiter.”“What does that imply?” asked Loree.“Luck in most things, especially in his own disposition.”“Yes; Pat has a lovely disposition,” agreed his wife carelessly. “He is so awfully good-tempered. I have never known him cross with any one.”“They’re the worst when roused,” commented Mrs Cork.Loree was already bored with the subject. She put up a hand and passed it delicately over her eyes, sighing as if in pain. Valeria Cork recognised a hint when it was handed to her—even on a silver salver. The moment she had gone, Loree hopped out of bed and locked the door. Then she closed the balcony shutters and set both electric fans going.It was one of those torrid days when clothes seem an outrage. She did not feel inclined to dress. Instead, she took from a trunk a roll of filmy powder-blue ninon bought for making blouses. In the dim room filled with fragrance and the rustling breezes of the fans, she swathed herself as with some soft blue mist, and her body glimmered through it like a living statue. Delicious hours she spent then, alone with her roses and diamonds, and the reflection of herself in the mirror, silent and lovely, less like a woman than some figure from the Elgin marbles come to life. But when the maid brought dinner, she was back in bed, white and languid and very still beneath her quilt.The second day, she had ventured downstairs, but only for lunch, and leaning upon the arm of Mrs Cork, whom she had first gone to seek. Quelch was kept at bay by her frail air of languor. His eyes consumed her, but she would not meet them, and to his urgent declaration that a drive in the cool of the day would do her good and blow all her ills away, she only smiled mournfully and kept tight hold of Mrs Cork’s arm. She did not intend to have her ills blown away.And now, on the third morning, with a frown between her brows, she pondered the continuation of her programme. It was certain that she could not be indisposed for ever and stay shut up in her room. For one thing, she was a healthy creature, and liked air and light and sunshine. But the fear of Quelch and the fires she knew she had set blazing in him worried her. Why could he not behave himself, she thought resentfully. Life would be so pleasant and delicious but for him. She no longer required the thrill of his passionate admiration. The diamonds gave her thrill enough.Valeria Cork, too, she felt, could not always be relied upon to stand by, lending the protection of her presence. That lady had interests and affairs of her own, and sometimes there was that in her manner which signified, very politely, that she did not care to be made use of. She was a card-woman, too, and would sit for hours playing with permanent guests at the hotel. Loree did not care for cards, and she could find no refuge in bridge. However she cared very much for dancing and was looking forward with immense pleasure to the ball that evening. She and Valeria were going together, and the latter had been so far accommodating as to promise to introduce plenty of dancing partners. In this way Loree hoped to evade the too close society of Quelch. In the meantime it was rather tiresome that the only place of real security seemed to be her own room. Because of this she lingered there all morning and had her lunch brought up. But it was a lovely day, and she longed for a walk. Rain in the night had cooled the air, and it was a shame to remain indoors. At about four o’clock, therefore, she ventured down. There was no one about except two stout ladies with dominant noses playing picquet. So she had tea in the drawing-room, and looked at the papers, and set out in search of a tobacconist’s.The main street was a good way off, but she reached it at last and bought and dispatched Pat’s tobacco. Then she looked into the window of the shop next door, a fascinating window full of old silver, unusual jewellery, and snuff-boxes. Now, she collected little boxes and there was one that particularly caught her fancy—a lovely little Louis Seize in pale blue enamel with Cupids and forget-me-nots festooning the tender legend:Pour toute ma vieJ’aime ma mie.She determined to buy it for herself as a birthday present, though the price would not make much of a hole in Pat’s fifty-pound note. In fact, it was marked at such a low figure that its genuineness seemed doubtful. But a suave person in the dim and dingy interior reassured her.“These are all pledged goods,madame, so we can afford to sell them cheaply.”“Pledged? What is that?”“Well—pawned,madame.”“Do you mean that this is a pawnshop?”“Yes,madame. We advance money on jewellery and valuables of all kinds.” With an eloquent hand he indicated a door marked “Private” in the shadow at the back of the shop. “Transactions are conducted with privacy and dispatch.”Loree was horrified, pawnshops being vaguely connected in her mind with crime and police-court notices in the Sunday papers. She had sat down before the counter, but she now rose hurriedly.“I don’t think I will bother about the box to-day.”As she gathered up her gloves and sunshade, the door marked “Private” opened, and Valeria Cork emerged. She was so busily occupied stuffing a bundle of banknotes into her bag that she walked past and left the shop without observing Loree. The latter, flushed and embarrassed by what seemed to her a dreadfulcontretemps, lingered in the shop, buying the snuff box as a means of delaying herself from catching up with Mrs Cork in the street.Of course it was no affair of hers, but she could not help wondering what business had been transacted behind the “Private” door that had resulted in Valeria Cork’s acquiring a bundle of banknotes. Was she dreadfully in need of money and obliged to pawn something? Perhaps she could not even pay her hotel-bill! These were awful ideas to Loree, who had never known need of money in her life. She felt sorry as well as curious, for she liked Valeria Cork in spite of her dry tongue and uncertain temper. Besides, Loree Temple, when uncorrupted by diamonds, was of an exceedingly kind and generous disposition, with an instinct always to help people in trouble. For a time now she even forgot the diamonds, so absorbed was she by the thought of Mrs Cork’s embarrassments. But only for a time. The ball was to take place that night, and planning her toilette required undivided attention. Early in the day she had put everything ready. The gown she was to wear lay like a drift of primroses over a chair, the electric fan fluttering it softly, and driving away every tiny crease acquired in travel. Long yellow silk stockings and little yellow satin slippers with sparkling buckles lay on another chair, and on the bed all sorts of soft and slight and slinky garments to go on underneath. She sat down and commenced to do her hair. That took an hour or so, for like all hair it was obstinate and behaved badly when it was wanted to look its best. She almost wished she had gone to a hairdresser. After pulling it down at least forty times and at last getting very nervous, she vowed that the forty-first time would have to do. It was the kind of hair that did not really need doing at all, being perfectly charming when just pushed up carelessly into little clusters of spraying waves and curls. She stuck her usual red rose into it from a great bunch that had been delivered that afternoon with the compliments of Heseltine Quelch. It was dinner-time long before she had finished so she rang for something on a tray and ate it sitting at her dressing-table studying herself in the mirror. In her vain little heart she decided that it was the better plan not to go downstairs where numbers of people were giving smart dinner parties. She did not want to be examined by scores of eyes before the hour when they would all file past Royalty. She wanted to dawn in all her glory upon the ball. To step like a fairy princess into the centre of the stage. Secretly she had an idea of outrivalling the renowned beauty of Princess Evelyn. However she was not very sure of herself in this ambition, being aware that Royalty has an air of its own, and that when said air is allied to beauty it becomes almost irresistible. Also, the Princess was older than she, had acquired the sophistication of Courts, and travelled in many lands. These things count, and Loree knew it. Still, she was not too discontented with the results of her subtle toiling and weaving when she stood at last ready to go downstairs. The only fault she could find was that she lookedtoo innocent. That, she felt sure was a grave defect in a woman of the world.Beinnocent, yes, thought Loraine Loree, but don’t look it, or people will think you are just out of the schoolroom. An abominable thing for a married woman of one year to have thought about her.She wondered what on earth she could do to give herself the right note of sophistication andawarenessthat there was wickedness in the world? She was wearing Pat’s pearls; on her fingers, in her ears, round her throat: and they made her look more innocent than ever. For once she had locked the diamond necklace, precious and adored, up in her jewel box, for worn with a gown like this it could not possibly have been concealed. But suddenly a mad and daring idea darted into her mind. Suppose she should wear it? Would anything in the world give such anote? In the twinkling of an eye the pearls were off and replaced by the chain of glimmering gems. Just to see!Yes. They gave the note. She looked like an angel who had been down to hell on an errand, and got back safely. For it was on an errand only, be it understood. She had not lingered to talk to the Devil. Only given a glance beyond the bars to see what was going on there among the bright flames. Then fled. But the adventure had left its mark. Or so the diamonds seemed to relate in their brilliant language and the haunting echoes they gave to the eyes.But dared she do this thing? Dared she go down into the crowd wearing the marvellous chain of stones that had come so mysteriously into her possession? She dallied long with the temptation, turning over the pros and cons in her mind. And after all what were the cons? Whoever it was that had been so kind and delightful as to present her with this jewel had surely meant her to wear it? Not keep it forever hidden? She did not linger too long over that phase of the story, however, because she did not wish to think too intently of the giver. Certainly she had no idea who it was, but she liked to think vaguely that the gods had something to do with it. Not any mere human being. The rose-pink idol rustling in its silken nest was a different thing altogether. Unfortunately she knew that belonged to De Beers, and she dared not openly wear it. But surely this chain...Well! if you dally with temptation long enough, temptation always wins, especially when aided and abetted by a thousand little lovely, glittering, dancing, scintillating spirits of light and colour.Needless to say Loree went downstairs with the chain round her neck: and though her heart was trembling with its own audacity she walked like a queen.It was nearly nine o’clock, the hour set for the reception to begin. The lounge was crowded and carriages were every moment setting down fresh parties of people at the door. All the wealth of Ind as well as Afric seemed to be arriving. The place absolutely glittered with jewels. Even at that Loraine Loree created something of a sensation as she came down the broad stairway. At first men thought she was some lissom sprite of spring arriving, decorated with the dewdrops of dawn. Then it was seen as she came among them that they had made a mistake. This was a beautiful woman of the world, wearing a Paris gown and diamonds so sumptuous that they put every one else’s into the shade.Valeria Cork was one of the few people who appeared undisturbed by the glory of Mrs Temple, though she, like every one else, saw the vision and made a signal to it, to indicate her whereabouts: and Loree, a little nervous in all that crowd of staring strangers, yet moving proudly, with elation in her veins found her way to her friend’s side. Valeria introduced two men with whom she was talking. Loree was much relieved to see no sign of Quelch. One of the first things she noticed was that Mrs Cork had not got on her Brazilian diamond. This might be accidental of course, but it was strange upon an occasion when every one else was bedecked. Valeria on her part gave only a passing glance at Loree’s diamonds.“How beautiful your jewels are!” she said carelessly, “and your gown too. You are creating quite a stir.” Then she went on talking to one of the men, leaving the other to entertain Loree, which he certainly did, being a young South African who knew everybody and reverenced nobody... especially Kimberley Nobodies. He himself was Kimberley born, but Harrow and Cambridge had bred in him a fine intolerance for the men who were merely millionaires. As for the millionaires’ wives—“Isn’t it amazing,” he said looking at Loree with frankly admiring eyes, “that one hardly ever sees the right women with jewels? Why should a little blue-faced monkey of a woman go about with a thousand pounds glittering in each ear and a few more thousand pounds’ worth drawing attention to her accordion-pleated throat? I tell you it makes me lose my reverence for age.”Loree doubted whether he had ever possessed any, but she laughed, because she was young and so was he; in fact he was still at Cambridge undergrad, being only out on a visit to his people during the long Vac.“As for a fat woman wearing diamonds—” continued this hopeful youth, “I’d rather see a beautiful medallion stuck in a porker’s back.”These wise and witty reflections were interrupted by a stir in the crowd and a general movement in the direction of the two great doors which were now flung open. The Royal party had arrived by a private way and taken up their position in the ballroom. The file through, to be announced and presented, now began, and Loree and Mrs Cork detached themselves from their friends with a promise to meet them later when the dancing commenced.A rather magnificent arrangement of scarlet and gold—half platform, half dais—had been set up at one end of the ballroom. But the Duke and Duchess were standing well away from it and chatting and shaking hands with their guests and behaving exactly like ordinary mortals. They did not interest Loree very much—just an elderly well-bred looking English gentleman and his pleasant-faced wife—but she looked eagerly as she drew near, at the Princess Evelyn. Yes, she was certainly lovely. A fine clear English skin and delicately curved patrician features. She wore a wonderful gown of faint mauve draperies, and her eyes which had a singularly pure expression appeared to be of the same haunting colour. People said she might have been a queen if she had chosen, and that more than one monarch had begged for her hand. But she had simple ideals, this royal girl—simple yet very high. She would only marry where she loved. And the world was amazed, and speculated a good deal as to what would happen if she fell in love with a mere commoner. In the meantime there seemed to be a little sadness in the sweet mauve eyes. Loree Temple thought so at least as she made her curtsey and passed on.There was still no sign of Quelch, and Loree felt alternately relieved and elated by the fact. She knew she was looking her best and it seemed a pity he should miss a sight that would give him so much pleasure. On the other hand it was undeniably safer, not to say cooler, without him hovering like a hawk over her every movement. Mrs Cork had introduced several pleasant people and she did not find time hanging on her hands at all. Only one thing worried her a little. A very striking-looking woman was paying her a good deal of attention and seemed to be constantly striving to approach her. As the room was crowded this was rather difficult, and Loree made it even more so for she had a feminine reason for not wishing the lady to approach too closely.The latter was a large woman, very handsome, with bold bright eyes, and a genial and courageous look to her, that was attractive. With such a face she might have been a Jezebel, or a Roman matron above suspicion. There perhaps was a little of both in her composition. Her gown of cloth of gold shone like a blaze of daffodils. Diamonds shone all over her too; in the buckles of her shoes, on her large able hands, on her plump but not shapeless arms. Youth had gone, and fat had come, but beauty had not entirely deserted her. She had one of those corsetted figures that make men wonder at the endurance of women, but her sufferings did not dim the brilliance of her smile nor the resonance of her hearty laughter which occasionally rang through the room. She was evidently a personality. She smiled at every one and every one smiled back and seemed to know her. It was only at Mrs Temple that she stared continually without smiling, seeming determined to edge nearer. But Mrs Temple was just as determined that she should do nothing of the sort, the reason being that beside that gown of blazing yellow Loree knew her own delicate primrose gown would be absolutely killed. Naturally she did not care to have her lustre dimmed and her subtle draperies made to look like faded nothings by the neighbourhood of this bird of brilliant plumage. Therefore very gently but cleverly she kept slipping a little further away.“Who is that lady in bright yellow?” she asked the Kimberley boy who was once at her side begging for a dance. The Royal party was leaving and dancing would very shortly begin.“Oh, you mean the famous Mrs Solano.”“Is she famous? What has she done?”“Ah! what hasn’t she done?” said young Dalkeith smiling. “There are many strange tales about her. Would you like to meet her?”“No, indeed,” answered Loree. “I don’t want her to come near me. Her gown simply kills mine.”Just then she looked up to discover that the lady in question having made adétourwas close upon her. Only a few people intervened. The two women’s eyes met and there was such searching astonishment in those bold black orbs, and such determination, that Loree became suddenly frightened. It occurred to her with a sudden shock that the look had something to do with her chain, of diamonds. The thought sent a thrill of alarm through her. Her treasure was in danger!“Please take me out to some cool dark place,” she said quickly to her companion. “I want air.”Nothing could please young Dalkeith better. He thought her the prettiest woman he had ever seen, and was only too delighted to lose himself with her in the deepest depths of the faintly-lit conservatory. But to his disappointment she wished to continue talking about Mrs Solano.“Do tell me about her. Why do you say she is famous?”“Well, when I say famous, I mean she is a sort of historical character in these parts. Her husband was one of the great diamond kings here in the old days and she was very much queen, I can tell you. They say she was extremely beautiful.”“She is still,” said Loree slowly, “in a way.”“Oh no, quitepassée,” said he, with the calm and cruelty of youth. “Everything’s in the past tense with her, poor old thing. Over and done with before you were born I expect. But she had a good run for her money, and so did old Micky Solano.”“Isn’t he a diamond king still?”“Well, I believe hethinkshe is, but as a matter of fact he’s in a lunatic asylum somewhere down in the Colony. He lost nearly all his money in speculations, and it sent him off his head.”“How sad! and how strange that she should still go out!”“Oh, it was all a long time ago and she’s had an exciting life and can’t let go. Did you notice that big golden diamond on her forehead?”“Yes, I did,” said Loree. “And I don’t think she can be very poor for she is covered with diamonds.”“Well, comparatively poor, you know. They used to eat off gold plates and build palaces wherever they went, that sort of thing. Now she lives in a small house with a couple of servants, and I believe all her most important jewels have been sold one by one to pay the bills at Micky’s asylum. Forhestill lives sumptuously. She’s sport enough for that.”“I could tell she had big qualities,” said Loree. “I felt she could either be a great saint or a great sinner.”“Well, I should say sport rather than saint,” laughed the boy. “She certainly was a bit of a sinner from all accounts—not morally, you know, but against the law.”“I don’t understand—”“The Diamond Law, I mean. In the days when old Micky Solano made his money diamonds could be found lying about the streets here in Kimberley, or bought at every street corner from the niggers who stole them.”“But how could the niggers steal them?”“Well, you see, nowadays, De Beers have the system of watching and searching brought to a fine art; boys who are working in the mines are absolutely isolated from the rest of the world in Compounds for six months or so at a time; at the end of their contracts and before leaving they are watched day and night and gone over internally as well as externally, so that they haven’t a hope of getting away with anything as big as a pin’s head. But in those early days there were no Compounds. They worked out in the open with nothing round them but wire fences, and opportunities for stealing were endless. There were watching overseers, but John nigger is a wily fellow and soon discovered means of hiding some of his finds. At the end of a day’s work among the blue ground he would hand over a dozen diamonds and probably have three or four fine ones concealed upon his person. The next step was to get into touch with illicit diamond buyers who would give him perhaps two pounds for a stone worth a hundred. This of course paid the nigger who had got the stone for nothing, while the man who made the purchase soon developed into a millionaire. A severe law was made to combat this traffic but people still did it, in spite of the risk of being sent to jail for ten or twenty years. The Breakwater at Cape Town was almost entirely built by men sentenced for I.D.B. People never talked of being sent to jail, but to the Breakwater. Nevertheless illicit buying of diamonds continued, and many well known men founded their fortunes in that way. Micky Solano was one of them. Not only Micky. His wife was in it too. She did it for love of the game, people say. Others say that diamonds had cast a glamour over her soul, and she couldn’t help herself. Anyway it was quite well known that Micky who kept a sort of wayside hotel got hold of the stones by hook or by crook, and she ran them across the border into the Orange Free State. Once you were in Dutch territory the Diamond Law could not touch you, and from there you could easily smuggle the stones down to the Cape and away by mail boat to the big buyers in Holland. You can imagine that heaps of people were constantly backwards and forwards to the border pretending to be travellers and traders. Scores of them were trapped at it and sent to the Breakwater. But Micky and his wife were never trapped. She was too clever. No one ever found the diamonds she hid though she was often searched. The detectives knew that she got away with thousands of pounds’ worth every month, but they were never able to catch her out. Then, one journey she had her baby with her. It was the only child they ever had, and for the first time she took it with her on the rough coach journey. There were no trains then, you know. People either had their own wagons and trekked across the veld, rode horses, or drove a four-in-hand. Mrs Solano used all these modes of getting about but upon this occasion she was travelling by the ordinary mail cart. As usual they were all searched by detectives and nothing found, but just after they got across the border and were free of the police a fellow passenger called her attention to the stillness of the child which usually was a very lively little thing. The mother looked, and found it dead. It was black in the face and had apparently died of strangulation. Mrs Solano nearly went mad. Some one took charge of her while the child was examined by a doctor who found a magnificent rough diamond stuck in its throat. It had been sucking one of those sugar bag arrangements that mothers sometimes make for their children. Apparently the stone had been placed inside the sugar bag for concealment and I wonder it never occurred to the mother that the baby might suck a hole in the bag and swallow the stone. Pretty awful Nemesis to descend upon her, wasn’t it?”“Terrible!” murmured Loree.“That was the last I.D.B. adventure she undertook anyhow. They were pretty rich by then and she must just have been doing it for the love of the risk. But she never did it again. Micky invested the beans—and they became fabulously rich. But isn’t it a curious idea of hers to wear the stone that choked the baby?”“Wear it?”“Well, they say that’s the one—the big golden stone she always wears on her forehead. They say she hates diamonds now and wears them as a sort of punishment and reparation, especially that one. I don’t know how much truth there is in it. People say anything in Africa. Awful country! Hullo! there’s the band. Do let’s go in and have this dance.”Loree felt very uneasy, but the music was irresistible and she let herself be beguiled. As soon as she got back into the ballroom she saw that Quelch had arrived. He was on the other side of the room staring about everywhere, but to her relief he passed out of a door without having caught sight of her. In a few seconds she had forgotten him and everything else in the joyous response of her whole being to the rhythm of the music. Young Dalkeith in common with most Colonials was an accomplished dancer and it was like being wrenched brutally out of a dream when the music stopped. They strolled in silence to one of the doors leading to the verandahs. As they reached the darkness Loree realised that she had run right into that which she had tried to avoid. A resonant and determined voice was saying:“It is mine, I tell you. I left it with Freddy Huffe. I am quite certain. I should know it anywhere.”She found herself facing Mrs Solano and another woman. They had been standing just outside the door, apparently watching the dancing. Loree saw at once that therencontrecould no longer be avoided. Mrs Solano addressed herself directly to young Dalkeith.“Will you introduce me to this lady, George,” she said pleasantly. Dalkeith, rather taken aback and annoyed, could hardly do otherwise than her bidding, but he performed the ceremony without wasting much grace.“Mrs Temple, this is Mrs Solano,” he said, adding crisply—“of whom I have been telling you.”“Oh,haveyou, George?” remarked Mrs Solano with a good-natured laugh. “That’s very kind of you, I’m sure. Well, you can run away now and play.”George walked off, very cross, and Loree felt desperately alone and frightened, for Mrs Solano’s friend remained, and she felt somehow that they were two to one. Whatever she felt within, however, she managed to show no outward trace of discomposure. There was a tinge of haughtiness in the glance of enquiry she levelled at Mrs Solano.“I hope you won’t be offended with me, Mrs Temple,” said that lady courteously enough. “But I’ve been all the evening admiring the necklace you are wearing. Would you mind telling me how it came into your possession?”Loree’s heart was ice, but so in terrified self-defence was her manner.“It is a little curious of you to ask me such a question,” she said coldly. “Perhaps you will explain—”“Ah! I see youareoffended,” answered the other with the utmost good nature, but behind her pleasant manner was still that strong determination Loree had recognised from the first. “Really you mustn’t be. It is only that the necklace reminds me very much of one I once possessed.” Suddenly she darted out a question: “Was it a gift?” Loree stepped away slightly and got her back to the wall in body as well as in spirit. People were dancing again. The verandah was deserted except for the little group of three and another woman, approaching in the distance.“Most jewels are gifts,” said Mrs Temple with the utmost composure, but wondering whether she was going to die or only faint. The other woman looked at her now with open hostility in her eyes. And then, to her relief, Loree recognised that the approaching woman was Valeria Cork. She came up to them swiftly.“Is anything the matter?” she asked in surprise, staring at the silent group of three. “How do you do, Mrs Solano?”Perhaps it was by accident that she ranged herself at Loree’s side, facing the other two women. In the darkness she felt Loree’s hand clutch her arm as if in fear, but Loree’s voice said very calmly:“This lady is under sane delusion about the necklace I am wearing.”“No, I am not under any delusion,” said Mrs Solano and her voice, no longer pleasantly resonant, clanged like iron. “If you will take off that necklace I will prove to you that it is mine.”Loree’s breath shortened. Mrs Cork laughed.“But how fantastic, Mrs Solano! You must really realise that this is rather a wild statement to make.”“It may sound so,” said Mrs Solano doggedly, “but, as I say, I am ready to prove it.Mynecklace has a blue diamond on each side of the clasp, and one of these diamonds has three dots or defects in it, that held in a certain light, give the impression of a tiny Death’s head grinning at you.”“More fantastic still!” cried Valeria Cork still laughing. Loree had never known her so hilarious. “Doesyournecklace possess this sinister distinction also, Mrs Temple?”“I have never noticed it,” was the stony answer.“Of course you haven’t.” Valeria became grave. “And of course Mrs Solano is making a mistake—”“I am not making a mistake. I am certain that the necklace is mine, and I insist upon examining it.” Mrs Solano spoke with the firmness of a woman who is accustomed to know what she means to do, and to do it.Valeria, speaking very gravely, said:“I think you are acting in a very strange manner, Mrs Solano, and later you will probably regret it very much.” She was standing in the doorway, and she now turned her head and looked into the ballroom. Immediately she added: “But as you have gone so far, I, as a friend of Mrs Temple’s, must insist that the matter be put right. Some responsible person must be called in to see the necklace with you, and relieve my poor little friend of any further unpleasantness. Mr Quelch is just the man to do this, and I see him over there in the ballroom. Please all remain here while I fetch him.”She was only two or three seconds away, and during her absence the three women stood still as though turned to stone. Quelch and Mrs Cork made their way across the ballroom, their heads bent in conversation. Presently they emerged through the door by which the three awaited.“I have explained everything to Mr Quelch,” said Mrs Cork quietly. “Mrs Temple, will you please hand him the necklace and he and Mrs Solano can go and look at it quietly in his sitting-room.”“This is all very mysterious,” said Quelch in his charming voice. “But I’ve no doubt we can clear it up immediately.”Valeria Cork had lifted the necklace quietly over Loree’s head.“It will be perfectly safe with Mr Quelch,” she said in a low voice. A minute after she put her arm through Loree’s. “I hear the ‘cup’ is delicious and I am so thirsty,” she said. “Let’s go and have some.”She drew Loree away in one direction and Quelch and Mrs Solano went in another. Mrs Solano’s friend, who throughout the proceedings had never spoken a word, remained standing like a pillar of salt, in the verandah.Loree plunged once more into the gay pool of melody and movement. With a little champagne in her head, and her heels as light as air, she managed to throw off the memory of the disagreeable incident that had ruffled the pleasant surface of the evening... but at the back of her mind fright was lurking still, and every now and then it would clutch at her heart with an icy hand that almost stilled its beating. Then, shivering, she would wonder what was taking place in Quelch’s sitting-room and why he and Mrs Solano did not reappear.Time went on. It had been somewhere about half past midnight when they went away, and at two o’clock there was still no sign of them. Mrs Temple was thankful for the distraction offered by the company of a delightful man of about forty-five whom young Dalkeith had introduced. He was a late-comer having arrived only in time for the ball, and at once with unerring instinct made a bee line for the prettiest woman in the room. His tongue had a witty twist and his eye under a black-ribboned eye-glass was blue and merry as a boy’s. He seemed not to have a care in the world and kept Loree so amused that she almost forgot all cares of her own. Moreover his step suited hers to perfection and while she was dancing with him she thought of nothing. Her mind was a blank except for the delicious feeling of bliss in rhythmical movement.She was resting after a dance with this man whose name she did not know when one of the hotel servants came up and addressed him in a low voice.“Mr Quelch would like to speak to you, Sir, in his private sitting-room.”A shade of annoyance crossed the face of Mrs Temple’s companion.“Very well,” he answered brusquely, then turned to her, “I wish people would not want to talk business out of business hours!” he remarked with a tinge of impatience. “However, I shall be back in ten minutes or so, Mrs Temple. You won’t give the ninth waltz to any one else, will you? And please don’t forget that I am to have that ‘third extra,’ if there is one. It’s a promise, isn’t it?”“Very well, we’ll look upon it as a promise,” she smiled. But when the ninth waltz started he had not returned to claim it, and she did not know with whom to be most vexed—Quelch, or her missing partner. Beautiful Loree was not accustomed to bloom unsought in therôleof wall-flower, and even though she was soon descried and besieged for the remainder of the waltz her vanity was hurt by the incident. She put a small rod in pickle for the defaulting partner when heshouldturn up, and the promise of the ‘third extra’ was promptly bestowed elsewhere. But the dance went gaily on and the recalcitrant one did not return to receive his punishment. She thought it very strange of him. Also her vexation with Heseltine Quelch increased. Surely if the latter had finished his interview with Mrs Solano he ought at least to come back to report and return the necklace, instead of sending for a business acquaintance and launching into some other affair... incidentally robbing her of the best dancing partner she had ever had! It really was too tiresome of him. She resolved to treat him pretty coolly for his sins.But up to the last note of the last “extra” there was no sign of him, and unease began, once more, to creep into her mind. What had happened? She was standing near the verandah door when the final bar of God Save the King crashed out. In the second of silence that followed a sharp report was heard from the garden—a strange, unusual sound that made women jump and men run hurriedly through the doors. The garden was dimly luminant with the promise of was that men discovered out there among dawn, yet not light enough to show what it the roses. One or two women devoured by curiosity began to push forward, but returning men barred the way. There were murmurs of an accident. People with good eyesight imagined they saw a slow procession moving through the grounds. Suddenly Quelch appearing from the gloom of trees and shrubs walked into the brightly-lit verandah. Loree forgot her grievances against him and ran to meet him.“What has happened? Do tell me, Mr Quelch. I feel so frightened.”“Nothing,” he murmured reassuringly—“at least nothing you can help. An unfortunate accident. A fellow fooling with a revolver, out there, has wounded himself rather badly.”“Oh, poor fellow—”“Who is it?—”“What a strange thing to be playing with a revolver at this hour!”“Where is he hurt?—”The women were all speaking at once, in great excitement and curiosity, but Quelch’s calm manner began to reassure them. Though not able to tell them much, he disclosed the belief that the wound was not fatal, and gently advised every one to go to bed. Loree was one of the first to follow his good counsel. As she moved away he stepped beside her for an instant.“Oh! Mrs Temple, it was quite all right about the necklace of course. Mrs Solano is immensely sorry to have made such a mistake, and is writing to you in the morning.”“Oh... thank you,” stammered Loree, turning very pink.“Mrs Cork has it, and will return it to you,” added Quelch, then turned back to the few still questioning women who lingered, and Loree hastened to her room.Valeria Cork was not awaiting her as she had hoped. The last seen of that lady—who did not dance—was at a bridge table in the lounge, brooding (to judge by her looks) over a bad hand and a bad partner. Well, no doubt she would arrive presently. In the meantime Loree stood waiting in a state of almost painful relief. It had been a glorious evening. As a woman she had achievedun succès fouby her beauty and her clothes. She had lit many little fires in the eyes of men—hungry little fires of longing and desire and admiration such as most women think it no shame to light and leave burning. But through it all she had felt a consuming fear about the diamonds. That horrible incident had shaken her through and through, and come near to spoiling her pleasure in the rest of life. And now since Quelch had spoken the words that put an end to her suspense she allowed herself for a moment to realise the terror of what might have been if Mrs Solano had been able to make good her claim. What a frightful scandal might have ensued! ... a scandal that would surely have reached Pat’s ears—her Pat so dear and trusting! He seemed to grow suddenly very dear as she sat there waiting and wondering: dear as things departed for ever out of reach are dear: dear as the dead!A soft tap came on the door and a softer whisper.“Are you asleep, Mrs Temple?”She rushed to open it. Mrs Cork stood there.“I thought you were in bed and asleep!”“No,” stammered Loree. “I was just going to undress.”“I only wanted to bring you this,” said Mrs Cork lightly, and handed something to her in a glittering heap. “Of course it was all a mistake of that silly Mrs Solano’s. Mr Quelch was very angry with her, but she is extremely penitent, I believe, and going to write you a letter of abject apology in the morning.”Loree took the necklace without a word. Mrs Cork gave her a strange look, then she said “Good-night” abruptly and went swiftly down the corridor.Loree locked the door and returned to her dressing-table. Very slowly she let the necklace ripple out of her hands through her slim fingers on to the white cloth. It lay a heap of glory, winking at her. At first she hated it. It had given her some terrible moments. She had a mind to fling it through the windows into the garden below and let who would find it and keep it. But she looked at it too long, and once more it wove its magic round her heart, round her mind, round her senses and her conscience. At last she took it up and kissed it.“Oh, my darling!” she cried. “If I had lost you!”Suddenly it occurred to her to look at the clasp.Then her face grew very pale, for strange to say thereweretwo blue diamonds on either side of it... two stones of a livid brilliance sending out piercing rays of azure light and seeming to guard that little gate of platinum which held the chain together. It seemed an extraordinary coincidence! What was it that Mrs Solano had said about “defects” and a “Death’s head”? She raised the chain high to the light and gazed intently into the heart of each. And then her own heart gave a beat and seemed to wait a little. For in one of those blue diamonds there were three tiny dots that gave back the curious illusion of a squinting, grinning Death’s head.Yet, in the morning, even as Valeria had predicted, on her tray lay the letter of apology from Mrs Solano. It was not abject, however. That high-spirited and adventurous Jewess knew not, it seemed, the paths of humility. But she was not without courtesy in heramende honourable.Dear Mrs Temple:I am sure that you received your necklace back safely from the trusted hands of our mutual friend, Mr Quelch. I have to tell you how extremely sorry I am for the foolish mistake I made. I am afraid that it caused you much pain and vexation and can only ask you very sincerely to forgive me and forget all about the unfortunate incident.Very faithfully yours,Rachel Solano.Oh, yes, Mrs Temple forgave. She was only too thankful to do so. A great weight seemed lifted off her shoulders. But the shock she had received from the “unfortunate mistake” together with the fatigue of dancing and the excitement generally had left her very weary. She decided to rest for a great part of the day, and lay abed, gently dreaming. With her lunch came copies of the two daily papers. Like all local newspapers they were not very interesting to visitors. But to-day there was, naturally, a long account of the Royal reception and Ball of the night before. Loree glanced down the printed columns to find herself famous as “the lovely Mrs Temple.” Far more room was given to her in the news than to the famous Princess Evelyn. Every item of her toilette was described, every shade of her gown, every leaf almost in the sheaf of roses she had carried. The journalists dwelt upon her glorious hair, its maze of bronze curls above her face of ivory and roses, they spoke of the grace of her walk, her exquisite dancing. It was only natural she should glow a little, lying there reading those panegyrics of praise. She had never before seen herself in print.She could not, however, help being struck by a fact which seemed very curious. Not a word had been written about her diamond chain. What made the omission conspicuous was that almost every other woman’s jewels were mentioned in detail, their diamonds counted, and catalogued. There were:“Mrs Ikey Mosenthal’s famous tiara—”“Mrs Solly Moses’ wreath of Jagersfontein roses—”“Miss Rebecca Isaac’s magnificent necklace and pendant of water-white stones—”“Lady von Guggenheim’s priceless plaque of black diamonds—”Only Mrs Temple’s exquisite chain was unhonoured and unsung. It was passing strange and gave her furiously to think. But at last she hit upon what might be the correct solution of the mystery. The journalists had probably not been able to set about the business of examining and describing clothes and jewels until after the Royal Party’s departure. As it was soon after that time that the Solano incident had occurred, followed by the temporary departure of the diamond chain from Mrs Temple’s neck, she reasoned that the journalists had not described it because they had not seen it. Which was, after all, a great piece of luck for her, for she could not help realising that the newspaper accounts might easily come to her husband’s eyes, and how very difficult it would be for her to explain to him how she came to be wearing a priceless necklace of which he had no knowledge. As it was she could cut out the paragraphs and send them to him.She gave a deep sigh of relief, then read the description of herself all over again, browing delicately upon the praise of her beauty. Just as she was laying down the papers a name caught her eye—a name she had heard before though she could not remember where. It was heavily leaded at the top of a long column, and composed a startling phrase.Suicide of Mr Frederick Huffe.It was the story of sane unfortunate man—a Banker-solicitor—who had betrayed his trusts and blown out his brains. Loree glanced cursorily at it, at first. Her tastes were not morbid and it really gave her pain to read of people in distress. She was not one of those who, as Masefield puts it, find intoxication in another’s suffering, excitement in another’s hell. But the words “in the garden of the Belgrove Hotel” arrested her attention and she read on. When she had finished she knew that the revolver shot they had heard at the end of the ball was the sharp crack of doom that had sent Frederick, Huffe out of the world.“Many men rushed to the spot at once,” ran the story, “but Frederick Huffe, brilliant man of the world, past-master of every sport and accomplishment to which he turned his hand, was also a sure and certain gun-man, and had made no mistake. Death must have been instantaneous.”So Quelch’s reassuring words were untrue! They were only spoken to get the women away quietly! It was comprehensible of course. One could not blame him for it, thought Loree. In fact she rather admired him for it, reflecting once more upon his worldly wisdom and capability. How cool and gentle and helpful he had shown himself in the matter of the necklace. He had been a real friend. Perhaps if the unfortunate Frederick Huffe had possessed such a friend he would never have come to his desperate end! What a strange thing, though, that he should choose to do it out there in the Belgrove garden, after the ball where he had been dancing and apparently enjoying life to the end! However she would not let her thoughts linger further on the tragedy. Besides, the phrase “Mr Huffe had financial worries” suddenly reminded her of something else, something that in the press of events she had almost forgotten—the financial worries of Mrs Cork. As she dressed for dinner she determined she would go into matters and try and find a way of helping her friend. Never, never would she forget how staunch Valeria had been in the terrifying ordeal with the Solano woman, and she resolved thatcoûte que coûteshe would repay that staunch friendship.At dinner-time she went boldly to the other woman’s table and asked if she might dine there, as she was tired of her own table. But Valeria Cork had lost her friendly air of the evening before and relapsed into her dry and cynical self. As the table where she sat was invariably laid for four persons she could not very well refuse, but she looked bored by the request, and, if eyes can speak, hers said plainly that she thought Loree a nuisance. Loree, however, had reasons both selfish and altruistic for being thick-skinned, and she meant to cleave closer than a brother to Valeria. She observed that again the Brazilian diamond was again absent from the widow’s throat, and she felt certain now, that accident could no longer be accountable for this. The conviction grew in her that the diamond had been left in the horrible little pawnshop. No wonder Mrs Cork’s eyes were arid and her tongue bitter! A few minutes later Quelch came in. Instantly his eyes found the two women, and he came over.“Why should I be left out in the cold?” he plaintively demanded.Mrs Cork assumed an even more bored air.“Oh, you can come. If I have one, I may as well have half a dozen.”He took no notice of her disagreeables, sitting down and making himself pleasant to them both, though both knew full well for whom were his gentle words and bold, enfolding gaze. Sometimes Loree had the sensation that they were scorching through her gown and searing her very flesh. More than ever she resolved to cling to the society of Valeria Cork. The latter remained distrait and contemptuous, and when Quelch asked them to go to the theatre after dinner, curtly replied that she had a bridge engagement. Loree also refused, but in more dulcet fashion. She said she feared the night air. No one mentioned the affair of the diamond necklace, nor was the subject of the suicide referred to. Loree was grateful for both of these things.After coffee and idle gossip in the lounge, Mrs Cork rose to join the two dominant-nosed ladies and a nosier man. Loree also rose. She had suddenly developed amigraine. This was indicated by the use of a minute gold bottle of smelling-salts and a delicate gesture of her hand across her forehead and hair, as if brushing away pain. Quelch looked on with troubled eyes, but it was vain for him to plead that five minutes in the garden would do her all the good in the world.“Not when I have amigrainelike this,” she dolefully replied, and repeated the lovely gesture, pushing pain back into her emotional hair, which bronzed and winged above her brows like fine threads of metal.“When I have a headache like this, nothing cures it but bed,” she averred, and cast herpriez-pour-moilook at him. With a barricade of protecting people about, she was enjoying herself immensely. It was a pity to go away from anything so rousing and exciting as his sultry glances. But it was safer than to stay. You never knew what a lawless man like that might do. She offered her hand in good night, and he was obliged to take it with the best grace he could muster. But he held it very closely, and did not release it until the red colour in her face responded to his pressure. Then, careless of what any one thought, he stood perfectly still, watching her out of sight. She tripped up the stairs, not at all like a woman suffering frommigraine. Her sprightly movements brought a cold, resolute look into his dark face.Her mind was full of both business and pleasure. First, and always, there were the diamonds wherewith to console solitude. Secondly, she had come by an inspiration during dinner, and was anxious to carry it into effect. It was an inspiration to repay “whatever gods may be” for the felicity of her diamonds by doing a good action which would also bring pleasure to another. She had determined to solace the financial troubles of Valeria Cork by secretly presenting her with Pat’s fifty-pound note. Such noble and pleasant intentions lend wings to the feet. She flew to her room and obtained the note. But a black boy was tidying out a bathroom next door to Mrs Cork’s bedroom, and she could not enter without being seen by him. Trying the balcony, she found a maid flirting there with some one’s valet.Obliged to possess her soul in patience till the coast was clear, she returned to the contemplation of her diamonds. It was nearly an hour before absolute solitude prevailed and she was able to steal to Mrs Cork’s door—only to find it locked! The door leading from the balcony proved to be in like case. This was a contingency that had not occurred to her. She constantly left her own door unlocked, and supposed that other people did the same. However, her mind was nimble, and never left her long without an idea. She went to her room and placed the banknote flat, in a large white envelope. For a moment, she toyed with the temptation to write, “From a friend,” upon the covering, but decided not to. Mrs Cork might know her writing, and that would never do. She wished the gift to be as anonymous as her own gift from the gods. Returning to the locked door, she knelt down, and, with great difficulty, worked the envelope underneath, computing that, as soon as the door opened, there it would lie, obvious and inviting. When, at last, she rose from her knees flushed and hot, but rather pleased with herself, it was to find Valeria Cork had come soft-footed down the corridor and was leaning against the opposite wall watching the proceedings. She had an unlighted cigarette between her lips and something very like a sneer in her sardonic eyes.“If you’ve quite finished operations,” she said, “I’ll go in and make the discovery.”Loree, caught red-handed at her good works, confused andagacée, stood like a convicted thief. For a moment, she thought of explaining. It seemed the only thing to do. But the other woman’s manner was so extraordinarily hostile that she was both alarmed and resentful. In silence and with great dignity, she walked away. But behind her own closed door she stood palpitating with apprehension for what would happen next. She had not long to wait. A sharp knock came on the door, and, without waiting for it to be opened, Valeria Cork marched in, holding the note and envelope as if they were something infectious.“What is the meaning of this? How dare you?”Loree, scarlet, stood clinging to the brass, rail of her bed. There did not seem to be any words adequate to the occasion. Impossible to inform this coldly furious woman that she had appeared to an onlooker as a fit recipient for charity. There was a brief silence, Mrs Cork obviously trying to control her temper.“I should like an explanation of this—thiskindness.” She bit off the last word with the utmost irony.“There is no explanation,” said Loree lamely.“But this is your banknote?” Silence.“I saw you pushing it under my door.” Silence.“I insist upon an explanation.”Still Loree kept silence. There was absolutely nothing to say. “I can only suppose,” said Valeria Cork, at last, “that it is some kind of conscience-money you were trying to foist off on me.”“No, no!” murmured Mrs Temple, her colour growing brighter.“Then,” said the other slowly, “you were trying to buy me. For some reason or other, you think I am to be bought.” For a moment, she looked at Loree piercingly. “That is my answer.” She flung the note in its owner’s face and swept from the room.A sad ending to a noble deed! Loree collapsed on to her bed and wept miserably. For a time, at least, even diamonds were powerless to assuage her humiliation.

The sea hath its pearls,But none more rareThan the soul of a womanSweet and fair.

The sea hath its pearls,But none more rareThan the soul of a womanSweet and fair.

I found that in a book, darling mine, and it made me think of you. All pearls make me think of you, with their lovely inner light shining and glowing through the faint pink bodies of them.

It is your birthday to-day, and I cannot be with you or get you anything here that you would care for. So I am sending you a fifty-pound note. Buy yourself a pearl. Or anything you like. There should be some good jewellers in Kimberley. And send me a pound of Hankey’s, like an angel. Can’t get any here, and haven’t had a decent smoke for a week—

Thus Pat Temple, writing to his wife from some far spot on the borders of the Congo. She lay reading the letter among her pillows, and drinking her morning tea. Quotations and tag-ends of verses were not unusual in Pat’s letters. He may not have been what is called a deeply read man. His favourite books wereThe Tower of London,Marcus Aurelius, Buffon,Pickwick Papers, Grimm’sFairy Tales, andThe Cloister and the Hearth. Life kept him too busy to make many new friends in the book line, but his mind had a way of seizing on to phrases and verses, and he never forgot anything he had once read that dealt with woman’s purity or men’s chivalry. Not that he quoted to the world. It was only in letters to his wife that these things sometimes slipped out from the deeps of his heart and mingled themselves with demands for his favourite brands of tobacco.

But his little verse this morning did not please Loree. A frown curled her brows. She knew she was not like a pearl. Neither did she want one. She was sick of pearls. They said nothing to her. Only the radiant fire of diamonds could charm her heart and ravish her imagination. She drew her treasures from beneath the pillow and kissed them. For two days and three nights she had owned them now, worn them hidden under her gowns, felt their soft scrape and rustle of them against her skin, drowned her senses in the secret joy of their possession. She was like a creature living under a spell that grew more and more potent every hour. The doors of her heart were closed against every other feeling and emotion. Her mind refused to remember anything she did not want to remember, and her conscience gave her no further trouble. It was either dead or fled.

She never asked herself where the diamonds had come from. It was the last thing she wished to know. Enough that they were hers by nine points of the law, and that no living soul had given sign or signal of knowing of their existence. The only fear she felt was that some one might steal them from her, ravish them from her grasp as suddenly and mysteriously as they had come. The peril of Quelch and his burning glances paled before that awful prospect. Besides, she had regained confidence in her power to keep him in hand. Having so far contrived to avoid being alone with him since the night of the theatre, she meant to continue to do so.

The morning after she had found the necklace, she feigned illness and stayed in bed all day. Before one o’clock, Quelch had heard of her indisposition and roses began to arrive. The room was almost filled with them—bales of colour, dew, and perfume. Mrs Cork, who walked in on the heels of a maid with a tray, said that they scented the whole hotel and made it smell like the rose garden of Persia.

Morning a thousand roses brings, you say?Yes; but where blows the rose of yesterday?

Morning a thousand roses brings, you say?Yes; but where blows the rose of yesterday?

she misquoted drily, standing by the bedside. Loree mentally and uncharitably applied the last phrase to her visitor, though in her own roselike beauty, as yet untouched by time, she could have afforded to be generous. But she was cross with Mrs Cork, and wanted her to go away. She knew of more alluring occupations than listening to that lady’s arid remarks. But Valeria had after all something interesting to propound.

“You know the Duke of Carrington is out here, don’t you, with the Duchess and their daughter Princess Evelyn?”

“Yes. They’re up in Rhodesia now. My husband met them at a reception in Buluwayo.”

“Well, they’re passing through Kimberley in three days’ time, and as they are anxious to see the diamonds and the diamond magnates and their wives are anxious to seethem, a ball is to be given in the Royal honour. So every one will be pleased, let us hope.”

“But how exciting!” cried Loree ignoring the irony that tinged all Mrs Cork’s remarks. “When is it to be, and where?”

“In three nights’ time, here at the Belgrove. The Club will be too small to hold the crush. The invitations are being rushed out, as of course it’s rather sudden and impromptu. I can get you one if you care to come.”

“I’d simply love it. I’ve always wanted to see Princess Evelyn. They say she’s perfectly lovely.”

“All right. I’ll arrange about it then.”

A short silence ensued. Loree’s mind was busily engaged in turning over her evening gowns, putting them on and discarding them one after the other, all except one she had never yet worn—delicious thing, pale and sweet as primroses growing in a field that the Lord had blessed. She gave a sigh of pleasure at the thought of wearing it. Valeria in the meantime gazed wearily around the room as though she hated everything in it, and in the world. Suddenly her gaze fell upon Pat Temple’s photograph.

“Ah! So that’s the husband!” said she, and took it up to scrutinise closely. “One of those big, sanguine men, born under Jupiter.”

“What does that imply?” asked Loree.

“Luck in most things, especially in his own disposition.”

“Yes; Pat has a lovely disposition,” agreed his wife carelessly. “He is so awfully good-tempered. I have never known him cross with any one.”

“They’re the worst when roused,” commented Mrs Cork.

Loree was already bored with the subject. She put up a hand and passed it delicately over her eyes, sighing as if in pain. Valeria Cork recognised a hint when it was handed to her—even on a silver salver. The moment she had gone, Loree hopped out of bed and locked the door. Then she closed the balcony shutters and set both electric fans going.

It was one of those torrid days when clothes seem an outrage. She did not feel inclined to dress. Instead, she took from a trunk a roll of filmy powder-blue ninon bought for making blouses. In the dim room filled with fragrance and the rustling breezes of the fans, she swathed herself as with some soft blue mist, and her body glimmered through it like a living statue. Delicious hours she spent then, alone with her roses and diamonds, and the reflection of herself in the mirror, silent and lovely, less like a woman than some figure from the Elgin marbles come to life. But when the maid brought dinner, she was back in bed, white and languid and very still beneath her quilt.

The second day, she had ventured downstairs, but only for lunch, and leaning upon the arm of Mrs Cork, whom she had first gone to seek. Quelch was kept at bay by her frail air of languor. His eyes consumed her, but she would not meet them, and to his urgent declaration that a drive in the cool of the day would do her good and blow all her ills away, she only smiled mournfully and kept tight hold of Mrs Cork’s arm. She did not intend to have her ills blown away.

And now, on the third morning, with a frown between her brows, she pondered the continuation of her programme. It was certain that she could not be indisposed for ever and stay shut up in her room. For one thing, she was a healthy creature, and liked air and light and sunshine. But the fear of Quelch and the fires she knew she had set blazing in him worried her. Why could he not behave himself, she thought resentfully. Life would be so pleasant and delicious but for him. She no longer required the thrill of his passionate admiration. The diamonds gave her thrill enough.

Valeria Cork, too, she felt, could not always be relied upon to stand by, lending the protection of her presence. That lady had interests and affairs of her own, and sometimes there was that in her manner which signified, very politely, that she did not care to be made use of. She was a card-woman, too, and would sit for hours playing with permanent guests at the hotel. Loree did not care for cards, and she could find no refuge in bridge. However she cared very much for dancing and was looking forward with immense pleasure to the ball that evening. She and Valeria were going together, and the latter had been so far accommodating as to promise to introduce plenty of dancing partners. In this way Loree hoped to evade the too close society of Quelch. In the meantime it was rather tiresome that the only place of real security seemed to be her own room. Because of this she lingered there all morning and had her lunch brought up. But it was a lovely day, and she longed for a walk. Rain in the night had cooled the air, and it was a shame to remain indoors. At about four o’clock, therefore, she ventured down. There was no one about except two stout ladies with dominant noses playing picquet. So she had tea in the drawing-room, and looked at the papers, and set out in search of a tobacconist’s.

The main street was a good way off, but she reached it at last and bought and dispatched Pat’s tobacco. Then she looked into the window of the shop next door, a fascinating window full of old silver, unusual jewellery, and snuff-boxes. Now, she collected little boxes and there was one that particularly caught her fancy—a lovely little Louis Seize in pale blue enamel with Cupids and forget-me-nots festooning the tender legend:

Pour toute ma vieJ’aime ma mie.

Pour toute ma vieJ’aime ma mie.

She determined to buy it for herself as a birthday present, though the price would not make much of a hole in Pat’s fifty-pound note. In fact, it was marked at such a low figure that its genuineness seemed doubtful. But a suave person in the dim and dingy interior reassured her.

“These are all pledged goods,madame, so we can afford to sell them cheaply.”

“Pledged? What is that?”

“Well—pawned,madame.”

“Do you mean that this is a pawnshop?”

“Yes,madame. We advance money on jewellery and valuables of all kinds.” With an eloquent hand he indicated a door marked “Private” in the shadow at the back of the shop. “Transactions are conducted with privacy and dispatch.”

Loree was horrified, pawnshops being vaguely connected in her mind with crime and police-court notices in the Sunday papers. She had sat down before the counter, but she now rose hurriedly.

“I don’t think I will bother about the box to-day.”

As she gathered up her gloves and sunshade, the door marked “Private” opened, and Valeria Cork emerged. She was so busily occupied stuffing a bundle of banknotes into her bag that she walked past and left the shop without observing Loree. The latter, flushed and embarrassed by what seemed to her a dreadfulcontretemps, lingered in the shop, buying the snuff box as a means of delaying herself from catching up with Mrs Cork in the street.

Of course it was no affair of hers, but she could not help wondering what business had been transacted behind the “Private” door that had resulted in Valeria Cork’s acquiring a bundle of banknotes. Was she dreadfully in need of money and obliged to pawn something? Perhaps she could not even pay her hotel-bill! These were awful ideas to Loree, who had never known need of money in her life. She felt sorry as well as curious, for she liked Valeria Cork in spite of her dry tongue and uncertain temper. Besides, Loree Temple, when uncorrupted by diamonds, was of an exceedingly kind and generous disposition, with an instinct always to help people in trouble. For a time now she even forgot the diamonds, so absorbed was she by the thought of Mrs Cork’s embarrassments. But only for a time. The ball was to take place that night, and planning her toilette required undivided attention. Early in the day she had put everything ready. The gown she was to wear lay like a drift of primroses over a chair, the electric fan fluttering it softly, and driving away every tiny crease acquired in travel. Long yellow silk stockings and little yellow satin slippers with sparkling buckles lay on another chair, and on the bed all sorts of soft and slight and slinky garments to go on underneath. She sat down and commenced to do her hair. That took an hour or so, for like all hair it was obstinate and behaved badly when it was wanted to look its best. She almost wished she had gone to a hairdresser. After pulling it down at least forty times and at last getting very nervous, she vowed that the forty-first time would have to do. It was the kind of hair that did not really need doing at all, being perfectly charming when just pushed up carelessly into little clusters of spraying waves and curls. She stuck her usual red rose into it from a great bunch that had been delivered that afternoon with the compliments of Heseltine Quelch. It was dinner-time long before she had finished so she rang for something on a tray and ate it sitting at her dressing-table studying herself in the mirror. In her vain little heart she decided that it was the better plan not to go downstairs where numbers of people were giving smart dinner parties. She did not want to be examined by scores of eyes before the hour when they would all file past Royalty. She wanted to dawn in all her glory upon the ball. To step like a fairy princess into the centre of the stage. Secretly she had an idea of outrivalling the renowned beauty of Princess Evelyn. However she was not very sure of herself in this ambition, being aware that Royalty has an air of its own, and that when said air is allied to beauty it becomes almost irresistible. Also, the Princess was older than she, had acquired the sophistication of Courts, and travelled in many lands. These things count, and Loree knew it. Still, she was not too discontented with the results of her subtle toiling and weaving when she stood at last ready to go downstairs. The only fault she could find was that she lookedtoo innocent. That, she felt sure was a grave defect in a woman of the world.Beinnocent, yes, thought Loraine Loree, but don’t look it, or people will think you are just out of the schoolroom. An abominable thing for a married woman of one year to have thought about her.

She wondered what on earth she could do to give herself the right note of sophistication andawarenessthat there was wickedness in the world? She was wearing Pat’s pearls; on her fingers, in her ears, round her throat: and they made her look more innocent than ever. For once she had locked the diamond necklace, precious and adored, up in her jewel box, for worn with a gown like this it could not possibly have been concealed. But suddenly a mad and daring idea darted into her mind. Suppose she should wear it? Would anything in the world give such anote? In the twinkling of an eye the pearls were off and replaced by the chain of glimmering gems. Just to see!

Yes. They gave the note. She looked like an angel who had been down to hell on an errand, and got back safely. For it was on an errand only, be it understood. She had not lingered to talk to the Devil. Only given a glance beyond the bars to see what was going on there among the bright flames. Then fled. But the adventure had left its mark. Or so the diamonds seemed to relate in their brilliant language and the haunting echoes they gave to the eyes.

But dared she do this thing? Dared she go down into the crowd wearing the marvellous chain of stones that had come so mysteriously into her possession? She dallied long with the temptation, turning over the pros and cons in her mind. And after all what were the cons? Whoever it was that had been so kind and delightful as to present her with this jewel had surely meant her to wear it? Not keep it forever hidden? She did not linger too long over that phase of the story, however, because she did not wish to think too intently of the giver. Certainly she had no idea who it was, but she liked to think vaguely that the gods had something to do with it. Not any mere human being. The rose-pink idol rustling in its silken nest was a different thing altogether. Unfortunately she knew that belonged to De Beers, and she dared not openly wear it. But surely this chain...

Well! if you dally with temptation long enough, temptation always wins, especially when aided and abetted by a thousand little lovely, glittering, dancing, scintillating spirits of light and colour.

Needless to say Loree went downstairs with the chain round her neck: and though her heart was trembling with its own audacity she walked like a queen.

It was nearly nine o’clock, the hour set for the reception to begin. The lounge was crowded and carriages were every moment setting down fresh parties of people at the door. All the wealth of Ind as well as Afric seemed to be arriving. The place absolutely glittered with jewels. Even at that Loraine Loree created something of a sensation as she came down the broad stairway. At first men thought she was some lissom sprite of spring arriving, decorated with the dewdrops of dawn. Then it was seen as she came among them that they had made a mistake. This was a beautiful woman of the world, wearing a Paris gown and diamonds so sumptuous that they put every one else’s into the shade.

Valeria Cork was one of the few people who appeared undisturbed by the glory of Mrs Temple, though she, like every one else, saw the vision and made a signal to it, to indicate her whereabouts: and Loree, a little nervous in all that crowd of staring strangers, yet moving proudly, with elation in her veins found her way to her friend’s side. Valeria introduced two men with whom she was talking. Loree was much relieved to see no sign of Quelch. One of the first things she noticed was that Mrs Cork had not got on her Brazilian diamond. This might be accidental of course, but it was strange upon an occasion when every one else was bedecked. Valeria on her part gave only a passing glance at Loree’s diamonds.

“How beautiful your jewels are!” she said carelessly, “and your gown too. You are creating quite a stir.” Then she went on talking to one of the men, leaving the other to entertain Loree, which he certainly did, being a young South African who knew everybody and reverenced nobody... especially Kimberley Nobodies. He himself was Kimberley born, but Harrow and Cambridge had bred in him a fine intolerance for the men who were merely millionaires. As for the millionaires’ wives—

“Isn’t it amazing,” he said looking at Loree with frankly admiring eyes, “that one hardly ever sees the right women with jewels? Why should a little blue-faced monkey of a woman go about with a thousand pounds glittering in each ear and a few more thousand pounds’ worth drawing attention to her accordion-pleated throat? I tell you it makes me lose my reverence for age.”

Loree doubted whether he had ever possessed any, but she laughed, because she was young and so was he; in fact he was still at Cambridge undergrad, being only out on a visit to his people during the long Vac.

“As for a fat woman wearing diamonds—” continued this hopeful youth, “I’d rather see a beautiful medallion stuck in a porker’s back.”

These wise and witty reflections were interrupted by a stir in the crowd and a general movement in the direction of the two great doors which were now flung open. The Royal party had arrived by a private way and taken up their position in the ballroom. The file through, to be announced and presented, now began, and Loree and Mrs Cork detached themselves from their friends with a promise to meet them later when the dancing commenced.

A rather magnificent arrangement of scarlet and gold—half platform, half dais—had been set up at one end of the ballroom. But the Duke and Duchess were standing well away from it and chatting and shaking hands with their guests and behaving exactly like ordinary mortals. They did not interest Loree very much—just an elderly well-bred looking English gentleman and his pleasant-faced wife—but she looked eagerly as she drew near, at the Princess Evelyn. Yes, she was certainly lovely. A fine clear English skin and delicately curved patrician features. She wore a wonderful gown of faint mauve draperies, and her eyes which had a singularly pure expression appeared to be of the same haunting colour. People said she might have been a queen if she had chosen, and that more than one monarch had begged for her hand. But she had simple ideals, this royal girl—simple yet very high. She would only marry where she loved. And the world was amazed, and speculated a good deal as to what would happen if she fell in love with a mere commoner. In the meantime there seemed to be a little sadness in the sweet mauve eyes. Loree Temple thought so at least as she made her curtsey and passed on.

There was still no sign of Quelch, and Loree felt alternately relieved and elated by the fact. She knew she was looking her best and it seemed a pity he should miss a sight that would give him so much pleasure. On the other hand it was undeniably safer, not to say cooler, without him hovering like a hawk over her every movement. Mrs Cork had introduced several pleasant people and she did not find time hanging on her hands at all. Only one thing worried her a little. A very striking-looking woman was paying her a good deal of attention and seemed to be constantly striving to approach her. As the room was crowded this was rather difficult, and Loree made it even more so for she had a feminine reason for not wishing the lady to approach too closely.

The latter was a large woman, very handsome, with bold bright eyes, and a genial and courageous look to her, that was attractive. With such a face she might have been a Jezebel, or a Roman matron above suspicion. There perhaps was a little of both in her composition. Her gown of cloth of gold shone like a blaze of daffodils. Diamonds shone all over her too; in the buckles of her shoes, on her large able hands, on her plump but not shapeless arms. Youth had gone, and fat had come, but beauty had not entirely deserted her. She had one of those corsetted figures that make men wonder at the endurance of women, but her sufferings did not dim the brilliance of her smile nor the resonance of her hearty laughter which occasionally rang through the room. She was evidently a personality. She smiled at every one and every one smiled back and seemed to know her. It was only at Mrs Temple that she stared continually without smiling, seeming determined to edge nearer. But Mrs Temple was just as determined that she should do nothing of the sort, the reason being that beside that gown of blazing yellow Loree knew her own delicate primrose gown would be absolutely killed. Naturally she did not care to have her lustre dimmed and her subtle draperies made to look like faded nothings by the neighbourhood of this bird of brilliant plumage. Therefore very gently but cleverly she kept slipping a little further away.

“Who is that lady in bright yellow?” she asked the Kimberley boy who was once at her side begging for a dance. The Royal party was leaving and dancing would very shortly begin.

“Oh, you mean the famous Mrs Solano.”

“Is she famous? What has she done?”

“Ah! what hasn’t she done?” said young Dalkeith smiling. “There are many strange tales about her. Would you like to meet her?”

“No, indeed,” answered Loree. “I don’t want her to come near me. Her gown simply kills mine.”

Just then she looked up to discover that the lady in question having made adétourwas close upon her. Only a few people intervened. The two women’s eyes met and there was such searching astonishment in those bold black orbs, and such determination, that Loree became suddenly frightened. It occurred to her with a sudden shock that the look had something to do with her chain, of diamonds. The thought sent a thrill of alarm through her. Her treasure was in danger!

“Please take me out to some cool dark place,” she said quickly to her companion. “I want air.”

Nothing could please young Dalkeith better. He thought her the prettiest woman he had ever seen, and was only too delighted to lose himself with her in the deepest depths of the faintly-lit conservatory. But to his disappointment she wished to continue talking about Mrs Solano.

“Do tell me about her. Why do you say she is famous?”

“Well, when I say famous, I mean she is a sort of historical character in these parts. Her husband was one of the great diamond kings here in the old days and she was very much queen, I can tell you. They say she was extremely beautiful.”

“She is still,” said Loree slowly, “in a way.”

“Oh no, quitepassée,” said he, with the calm and cruelty of youth. “Everything’s in the past tense with her, poor old thing. Over and done with before you were born I expect. But she had a good run for her money, and so did old Micky Solano.”

“Isn’t he a diamond king still?”

“Well, I believe hethinkshe is, but as a matter of fact he’s in a lunatic asylum somewhere down in the Colony. He lost nearly all his money in speculations, and it sent him off his head.”

“How sad! and how strange that she should still go out!”

“Oh, it was all a long time ago and she’s had an exciting life and can’t let go. Did you notice that big golden diamond on her forehead?”

“Yes, I did,” said Loree. “And I don’t think she can be very poor for she is covered with diamonds.”

“Well, comparatively poor, you know. They used to eat off gold plates and build palaces wherever they went, that sort of thing. Now she lives in a small house with a couple of servants, and I believe all her most important jewels have been sold one by one to pay the bills at Micky’s asylum. Forhestill lives sumptuously. She’s sport enough for that.”

“I could tell she had big qualities,” said Loree. “I felt she could either be a great saint or a great sinner.”

“Well, I should say sport rather than saint,” laughed the boy. “She certainly was a bit of a sinner from all accounts—not morally, you know, but against the law.”

“I don’t understand—”

“The Diamond Law, I mean. In the days when old Micky Solano made his money diamonds could be found lying about the streets here in Kimberley, or bought at every street corner from the niggers who stole them.”

“But how could the niggers steal them?”

“Well, you see, nowadays, De Beers have the system of watching and searching brought to a fine art; boys who are working in the mines are absolutely isolated from the rest of the world in Compounds for six months or so at a time; at the end of their contracts and before leaving they are watched day and night and gone over internally as well as externally, so that they haven’t a hope of getting away with anything as big as a pin’s head. But in those early days there were no Compounds. They worked out in the open with nothing round them but wire fences, and opportunities for stealing were endless. There were watching overseers, but John nigger is a wily fellow and soon discovered means of hiding some of his finds. At the end of a day’s work among the blue ground he would hand over a dozen diamonds and probably have three or four fine ones concealed upon his person. The next step was to get into touch with illicit diamond buyers who would give him perhaps two pounds for a stone worth a hundred. This of course paid the nigger who had got the stone for nothing, while the man who made the purchase soon developed into a millionaire. A severe law was made to combat this traffic but people still did it, in spite of the risk of being sent to jail for ten or twenty years. The Breakwater at Cape Town was almost entirely built by men sentenced for I.D.B. People never talked of being sent to jail, but to the Breakwater. Nevertheless illicit buying of diamonds continued, and many well known men founded their fortunes in that way. Micky Solano was one of them. Not only Micky. His wife was in it too. She did it for love of the game, people say. Others say that diamonds had cast a glamour over her soul, and she couldn’t help herself. Anyway it was quite well known that Micky who kept a sort of wayside hotel got hold of the stones by hook or by crook, and she ran them across the border into the Orange Free State. Once you were in Dutch territory the Diamond Law could not touch you, and from there you could easily smuggle the stones down to the Cape and away by mail boat to the big buyers in Holland. You can imagine that heaps of people were constantly backwards and forwards to the border pretending to be travellers and traders. Scores of them were trapped at it and sent to the Breakwater. But Micky and his wife were never trapped. She was too clever. No one ever found the diamonds she hid though she was often searched. The detectives knew that she got away with thousands of pounds’ worth every month, but they were never able to catch her out. Then, one journey she had her baby with her. It was the only child they ever had, and for the first time she took it with her on the rough coach journey. There were no trains then, you know. People either had their own wagons and trekked across the veld, rode horses, or drove a four-in-hand. Mrs Solano used all these modes of getting about but upon this occasion she was travelling by the ordinary mail cart. As usual they were all searched by detectives and nothing found, but just after they got across the border and were free of the police a fellow passenger called her attention to the stillness of the child which usually was a very lively little thing. The mother looked, and found it dead. It was black in the face and had apparently died of strangulation. Mrs Solano nearly went mad. Some one took charge of her while the child was examined by a doctor who found a magnificent rough diamond stuck in its throat. It had been sucking one of those sugar bag arrangements that mothers sometimes make for their children. Apparently the stone had been placed inside the sugar bag for concealment and I wonder it never occurred to the mother that the baby might suck a hole in the bag and swallow the stone. Pretty awful Nemesis to descend upon her, wasn’t it?”

“Terrible!” murmured Loree.

“That was the last I.D.B. adventure she undertook anyhow. They were pretty rich by then and she must just have been doing it for the love of the risk. But she never did it again. Micky invested the beans—and they became fabulously rich. But isn’t it a curious idea of hers to wear the stone that choked the baby?”

“Wear it?”

“Well, they say that’s the one—the big golden stone she always wears on her forehead. They say she hates diamonds now and wears them as a sort of punishment and reparation, especially that one. I don’t know how much truth there is in it. People say anything in Africa. Awful country! Hullo! there’s the band. Do let’s go in and have this dance.”

Loree felt very uneasy, but the music was irresistible and she let herself be beguiled. As soon as she got back into the ballroom she saw that Quelch had arrived. He was on the other side of the room staring about everywhere, but to her relief he passed out of a door without having caught sight of her. In a few seconds she had forgotten him and everything else in the joyous response of her whole being to the rhythm of the music. Young Dalkeith in common with most Colonials was an accomplished dancer and it was like being wrenched brutally out of a dream when the music stopped. They strolled in silence to one of the doors leading to the verandahs. As they reached the darkness Loree realised that she had run right into that which she had tried to avoid. A resonant and determined voice was saying:

“It is mine, I tell you. I left it with Freddy Huffe. I am quite certain. I should know it anywhere.”

She found herself facing Mrs Solano and another woman. They had been standing just outside the door, apparently watching the dancing. Loree saw at once that therencontrecould no longer be avoided. Mrs Solano addressed herself directly to young Dalkeith.

“Will you introduce me to this lady, George,” she said pleasantly. Dalkeith, rather taken aback and annoyed, could hardly do otherwise than her bidding, but he performed the ceremony without wasting much grace.

“Mrs Temple, this is Mrs Solano,” he said, adding crisply—“of whom I have been telling you.”

“Oh,haveyou, George?” remarked Mrs Solano with a good-natured laugh. “That’s very kind of you, I’m sure. Well, you can run away now and play.”

George walked off, very cross, and Loree felt desperately alone and frightened, for Mrs Solano’s friend remained, and she felt somehow that they were two to one. Whatever she felt within, however, she managed to show no outward trace of discomposure. There was a tinge of haughtiness in the glance of enquiry she levelled at Mrs Solano.

“I hope you won’t be offended with me, Mrs Temple,” said that lady courteously enough. “But I’ve been all the evening admiring the necklace you are wearing. Would you mind telling me how it came into your possession?”

Loree’s heart was ice, but so in terrified self-defence was her manner.

“It is a little curious of you to ask me such a question,” she said coldly. “Perhaps you will explain—”

“Ah! I see youareoffended,” answered the other with the utmost good nature, but behind her pleasant manner was still that strong determination Loree had recognised from the first. “Really you mustn’t be. It is only that the necklace reminds me very much of one I once possessed.” Suddenly she darted out a question: “Was it a gift?” Loree stepped away slightly and got her back to the wall in body as well as in spirit. People were dancing again. The verandah was deserted except for the little group of three and another woman, approaching in the distance.

“Most jewels are gifts,” said Mrs Temple with the utmost composure, but wondering whether she was going to die or only faint. The other woman looked at her now with open hostility in her eyes. And then, to her relief, Loree recognised that the approaching woman was Valeria Cork. She came up to them swiftly.

“Is anything the matter?” she asked in surprise, staring at the silent group of three. “How do you do, Mrs Solano?”

Perhaps it was by accident that she ranged herself at Loree’s side, facing the other two women. In the darkness she felt Loree’s hand clutch her arm as if in fear, but Loree’s voice said very calmly:

“This lady is under sane delusion about the necklace I am wearing.”

“No, I am not under any delusion,” said Mrs Solano and her voice, no longer pleasantly resonant, clanged like iron. “If you will take off that necklace I will prove to you that it is mine.”

Loree’s breath shortened. Mrs Cork laughed.

“But how fantastic, Mrs Solano! You must really realise that this is rather a wild statement to make.”

“It may sound so,” said Mrs Solano doggedly, “but, as I say, I am ready to prove it.Mynecklace has a blue diamond on each side of the clasp, and one of these diamonds has three dots or defects in it, that held in a certain light, give the impression of a tiny Death’s head grinning at you.”

“More fantastic still!” cried Valeria Cork still laughing. Loree had never known her so hilarious. “Doesyournecklace possess this sinister distinction also, Mrs Temple?”

“I have never noticed it,” was the stony answer.

“Of course you haven’t.” Valeria became grave. “And of course Mrs Solano is making a mistake—”

“I am not making a mistake. I am certain that the necklace is mine, and I insist upon examining it.” Mrs Solano spoke with the firmness of a woman who is accustomed to know what she means to do, and to do it.

Valeria, speaking very gravely, said:

“I think you are acting in a very strange manner, Mrs Solano, and later you will probably regret it very much.” She was standing in the doorway, and she now turned her head and looked into the ballroom. Immediately she added: “But as you have gone so far, I, as a friend of Mrs Temple’s, must insist that the matter be put right. Some responsible person must be called in to see the necklace with you, and relieve my poor little friend of any further unpleasantness. Mr Quelch is just the man to do this, and I see him over there in the ballroom. Please all remain here while I fetch him.”

She was only two or three seconds away, and during her absence the three women stood still as though turned to stone. Quelch and Mrs Cork made their way across the ballroom, their heads bent in conversation. Presently they emerged through the door by which the three awaited.

“I have explained everything to Mr Quelch,” said Mrs Cork quietly. “Mrs Temple, will you please hand him the necklace and he and Mrs Solano can go and look at it quietly in his sitting-room.”

“This is all very mysterious,” said Quelch in his charming voice. “But I’ve no doubt we can clear it up immediately.”

Valeria Cork had lifted the necklace quietly over Loree’s head.

“It will be perfectly safe with Mr Quelch,” she said in a low voice. A minute after she put her arm through Loree’s. “I hear the ‘cup’ is delicious and I am so thirsty,” she said. “Let’s go and have some.”

She drew Loree away in one direction and Quelch and Mrs Solano went in another. Mrs Solano’s friend, who throughout the proceedings had never spoken a word, remained standing like a pillar of salt, in the verandah.

Loree plunged once more into the gay pool of melody and movement. With a little champagne in her head, and her heels as light as air, she managed to throw off the memory of the disagreeable incident that had ruffled the pleasant surface of the evening... but at the back of her mind fright was lurking still, and every now and then it would clutch at her heart with an icy hand that almost stilled its beating. Then, shivering, she would wonder what was taking place in Quelch’s sitting-room and why he and Mrs Solano did not reappear.

Time went on. It had been somewhere about half past midnight when they went away, and at two o’clock there was still no sign of them. Mrs Temple was thankful for the distraction offered by the company of a delightful man of about forty-five whom young Dalkeith had introduced. He was a late-comer having arrived only in time for the ball, and at once with unerring instinct made a bee line for the prettiest woman in the room. His tongue had a witty twist and his eye under a black-ribboned eye-glass was blue and merry as a boy’s. He seemed not to have a care in the world and kept Loree so amused that she almost forgot all cares of her own. Moreover his step suited hers to perfection and while she was dancing with him she thought of nothing. Her mind was a blank except for the delicious feeling of bliss in rhythmical movement.

She was resting after a dance with this man whose name she did not know when one of the hotel servants came up and addressed him in a low voice.

“Mr Quelch would like to speak to you, Sir, in his private sitting-room.”

A shade of annoyance crossed the face of Mrs Temple’s companion.

“Very well,” he answered brusquely, then turned to her, “I wish people would not want to talk business out of business hours!” he remarked with a tinge of impatience. “However, I shall be back in ten minutes or so, Mrs Temple. You won’t give the ninth waltz to any one else, will you? And please don’t forget that I am to have that ‘third extra,’ if there is one. It’s a promise, isn’t it?”

“Very well, we’ll look upon it as a promise,” she smiled. But when the ninth waltz started he had not returned to claim it, and she did not know with whom to be most vexed—Quelch, or her missing partner. Beautiful Loree was not accustomed to bloom unsought in therôleof wall-flower, and even though she was soon descried and besieged for the remainder of the waltz her vanity was hurt by the incident. She put a small rod in pickle for the defaulting partner when heshouldturn up, and the promise of the ‘third extra’ was promptly bestowed elsewhere. But the dance went gaily on and the recalcitrant one did not return to receive his punishment. She thought it very strange of him. Also her vexation with Heseltine Quelch increased. Surely if the latter had finished his interview with Mrs Solano he ought at least to come back to report and return the necklace, instead of sending for a business acquaintance and launching into some other affair... incidentally robbing her of the best dancing partner she had ever had! It really was too tiresome of him. She resolved to treat him pretty coolly for his sins.

But up to the last note of the last “extra” there was no sign of him, and unease began, once more, to creep into her mind. What had happened? She was standing near the verandah door when the final bar of God Save the King crashed out. In the second of silence that followed a sharp report was heard from the garden—a strange, unusual sound that made women jump and men run hurriedly through the doors. The garden was dimly luminant with the promise of was that men discovered out there among dawn, yet not light enough to show what it the roses. One or two women devoured by curiosity began to push forward, but returning men barred the way. There were murmurs of an accident. People with good eyesight imagined they saw a slow procession moving through the grounds. Suddenly Quelch appearing from the gloom of trees and shrubs walked into the brightly-lit verandah. Loree forgot her grievances against him and ran to meet him.

“What has happened? Do tell me, Mr Quelch. I feel so frightened.”

“Nothing,” he murmured reassuringly—“at least nothing you can help. An unfortunate accident. A fellow fooling with a revolver, out there, has wounded himself rather badly.”

“Oh, poor fellow—”

“Who is it?—”

“What a strange thing to be playing with a revolver at this hour!”

“Where is he hurt?—”

The women were all speaking at once, in great excitement and curiosity, but Quelch’s calm manner began to reassure them. Though not able to tell them much, he disclosed the belief that the wound was not fatal, and gently advised every one to go to bed. Loree was one of the first to follow his good counsel. As she moved away he stepped beside her for an instant.

“Oh! Mrs Temple, it was quite all right about the necklace of course. Mrs Solano is immensely sorry to have made such a mistake, and is writing to you in the morning.”

“Oh... thank you,” stammered Loree, turning very pink.

“Mrs Cork has it, and will return it to you,” added Quelch, then turned back to the few still questioning women who lingered, and Loree hastened to her room.

Valeria Cork was not awaiting her as she had hoped. The last seen of that lady—who did not dance—was at a bridge table in the lounge, brooding (to judge by her looks) over a bad hand and a bad partner. Well, no doubt she would arrive presently. In the meantime Loree stood waiting in a state of almost painful relief. It had been a glorious evening. As a woman she had achievedun succès fouby her beauty and her clothes. She had lit many little fires in the eyes of men—hungry little fires of longing and desire and admiration such as most women think it no shame to light and leave burning. But through it all she had felt a consuming fear about the diamonds. That horrible incident had shaken her through and through, and come near to spoiling her pleasure in the rest of life. And now since Quelch had spoken the words that put an end to her suspense she allowed herself for a moment to realise the terror of what might have been if Mrs Solano had been able to make good her claim. What a frightful scandal might have ensued! ... a scandal that would surely have reached Pat’s ears—her Pat so dear and trusting! He seemed to grow suddenly very dear as she sat there waiting and wondering: dear as things departed for ever out of reach are dear: dear as the dead!

A soft tap came on the door and a softer whisper.

“Are you asleep, Mrs Temple?”

She rushed to open it. Mrs Cork stood there.

“I thought you were in bed and asleep!”

“No,” stammered Loree. “I was just going to undress.”

“I only wanted to bring you this,” said Mrs Cork lightly, and handed something to her in a glittering heap. “Of course it was all a mistake of that silly Mrs Solano’s. Mr Quelch was very angry with her, but she is extremely penitent, I believe, and going to write you a letter of abject apology in the morning.”

Loree took the necklace without a word. Mrs Cork gave her a strange look, then she said “Good-night” abruptly and went swiftly down the corridor.

Loree locked the door and returned to her dressing-table. Very slowly she let the necklace ripple out of her hands through her slim fingers on to the white cloth. It lay a heap of glory, winking at her. At first she hated it. It had given her some terrible moments. She had a mind to fling it through the windows into the garden below and let who would find it and keep it. But she looked at it too long, and once more it wove its magic round her heart, round her mind, round her senses and her conscience. At last she took it up and kissed it.

“Oh, my darling!” she cried. “If I had lost you!”

Suddenly it occurred to her to look at the clasp.

Then her face grew very pale, for strange to say thereweretwo blue diamonds on either side of it... two stones of a livid brilliance sending out piercing rays of azure light and seeming to guard that little gate of platinum which held the chain together. It seemed an extraordinary coincidence! What was it that Mrs Solano had said about “defects” and a “Death’s head”? She raised the chain high to the light and gazed intently into the heart of each. And then her own heart gave a beat and seemed to wait a little. For in one of those blue diamonds there were three tiny dots that gave back the curious illusion of a squinting, grinning Death’s head.

Yet, in the morning, even as Valeria had predicted, on her tray lay the letter of apology from Mrs Solano. It was not abject, however. That high-spirited and adventurous Jewess knew not, it seemed, the paths of humility. But she was not without courtesy in heramende honourable.

Dear Mrs Temple:I am sure that you received your necklace back safely from the trusted hands of our mutual friend, Mr Quelch. I have to tell you how extremely sorry I am for the foolish mistake I made. I am afraid that it caused you much pain and vexation and can only ask you very sincerely to forgive me and forget all about the unfortunate incident.Very faithfully yours,Rachel Solano.

Dear Mrs Temple:

I am sure that you received your necklace back safely from the trusted hands of our mutual friend, Mr Quelch. I have to tell you how extremely sorry I am for the foolish mistake I made. I am afraid that it caused you much pain and vexation and can only ask you very sincerely to forgive me and forget all about the unfortunate incident.

Very faithfully yours,

Rachel Solano.

Oh, yes, Mrs Temple forgave. She was only too thankful to do so. A great weight seemed lifted off her shoulders. But the shock she had received from the “unfortunate mistake” together with the fatigue of dancing and the excitement generally had left her very weary. She decided to rest for a great part of the day, and lay abed, gently dreaming. With her lunch came copies of the two daily papers. Like all local newspapers they were not very interesting to visitors. But to-day there was, naturally, a long account of the Royal reception and Ball of the night before. Loree glanced down the printed columns to find herself famous as “the lovely Mrs Temple.” Far more room was given to her in the news than to the famous Princess Evelyn. Every item of her toilette was described, every shade of her gown, every leaf almost in the sheaf of roses she had carried. The journalists dwelt upon her glorious hair, its maze of bronze curls above her face of ivory and roses, they spoke of the grace of her walk, her exquisite dancing. It was only natural she should glow a little, lying there reading those panegyrics of praise. She had never before seen herself in print.

She could not, however, help being struck by a fact which seemed very curious. Not a word had been written about her diamond chain. What made the omission conspicuous was that almost every other woman’s jewels were mentioned in detail, their diamonds counted, and catalogued. There were:

“Mrs Ikey Mosenthal’s famous tiara—”

“Mrs Solly Moses’ wreath of Jagersfontein roses—”

“Miss Rebecca Isaac’s magnificent necklace and pendant of water-white stones—”

“Lady von Guggenheim’s priceless plaque of black diamonds—”

Only Mrs Temple’s exquisite chain was unhonoured and unsung. It was passing strange and gave her furiously to think. But at last she hit upon what might be the correct solution of the mystery. The journalists had probably not been able to set about the business of examining and describing clothes and jewels until after the Royal Party’s departure. As it was soon after that time that the Solano incident had occurred, followed by the temporary departure of the diamond chain from Mrs Temple’s neck, she reasoned that the journalists had not described it because they had not seen it. Which was, after all, a great piece of luck for her, for she could not help realising that the newspaper accounts might easily come to her husband’s eyes, and how very difficult it would be for her to explain to him how she came to be wearing a priceless necklace of which he had no knowledge. As it was she could cut out the paragraphs and send them to him.

She gave a deep sigh of relief, then read the description of herself all over again, browing delicately upon the praise of her beauty. Just as she was laying down the papers a name caught her eye—a name she had heard before though she could not remember where. It was heavily leaded at the top of a long column, and composed a startling phrase.

Suicide of Mr Frederick Huffe.

It was the story of sane unfortunate man—a Banker-solicitor—who had betrayed his trusts and blown out his brains. Loree glanced cursorily at it, at first. Her tastes were not morbid and it really gave her pain to read of people in distress. She was not one of those who, as Masefield puts it, find intoxication in another’s suffering, excitement in another’s hell. But the words “in the garden of the Belgrove Hotel” arrested her attention and she read on. When she had finished she knew that the revolver shot they had heard at the end of the ball was the sharp crack of doom that had sent Frederick, Huffe out of the world.

“Many men rushed to the spot at once,” ran the story, “but Frederick Huffe, brilliant man of the world, past-master of every sport and accomplishment to which he turned his hand, was also a sure and certain gun-man, and had made no mistake. Death must have been instantaneous.”

So Quelch’s reassuring words were untrue! They were only spoken to get the women away quietly! It was comprehensible of course. One could not blame him for it, thought Loree. In fact she rather admired him for it, reflecting once more upon his worldly wisdom and capability. How cool and gentle and helpful he had shown himself in the matter of the necklace. He had been a real friend. Perhaps if the unfortunate Frederick Huffe had possessed such a friend he would never have come to his desperate end! What a strange thing, though, that he should choose to do it out there in the Belgrove garden, after the ball where he had been dancing and apparently enjoying life to the end! However she would not let her thoughts linger further on the tragedy. Besides, the phrase “Mr Huffe had financial worries” suddenly reminded her of something else, something that in the press of events she had almost forgotten—the financial worries of Mrs Cork. As she dressed for dinner she determined she would go into matters and try and find a way of helping her friend. Never, never would she forget how staunch Valeria had been in the terrifying ordeal with the Solano woman, and she resolved thatcoûte que coûteshe would repay that staunch friendship.

At dinner-time she went boldly to the other woman’s table and asked if she might dine there, as she was tired of her own table. But Valeria Cork had lost her friendly air of the evening before and relapsed into her dry and cynical self. As the table where she sat was invariably laid for four persons she could not very well refuse, but she looked bored by the request, and, if eyes can speak, hers said plainly that she thought Loree a nuisance. Loree, however, had reasons both selfish and altruistic for being thick-skinned, and she meant to cleave closer than a brother to Valeria. She observed that again the Brazilian diamond was again absent from the widow’s throat, and she felt certain now, that accident could no longer be accountable for this. The conviction grew in her that the diamond had been left in the horrible little pawnshop. No wonder Mrs Cork’s eyes were arid and her tongue bitter! A few minutes later Quelch came in. Instantly his eyes found the two women, and he came over.

“Why should I be left out in the cold?” he plaintively demanded.

Mrs Cork assumed an even more bored air.

“Oh, you can come. If I have one, I may as well have half a dozen.”

He took no notice of her disagreeables, sitting down and making himself pleasant to them both, though both knew full well for whom were his gentle words and bold, enfolding gaze. Sometimes Loree had the sensation that they were scorching through her gown and searing her very flesh. More than ever she resolved to cling to the society of Valeria Cork. The latter remained distrait and contemptuous, and when Quelch asked them to go to the theatre after dinner, curtly replied that she had a bridge engagement. Loree also refused, but in more dulcet fashion. She said she feared the night air. No one mentioned the affair of the diamond necklace, nor was the subject of the suicide referred to. Loree was grateful for both of these things.

After coffee and idle gossip in the lounge, Mrs Cork rose to join the two dominant-nosed ladies and a nosier man. Loree also rose. She had suddenly developed amigraine. This was indicated by the use of a minute gold bottle of smelling-salts and a delicate gesture of her hand across her forehead and hair, as if brushing away pain. Quelch looked on with troubled eyes, but it was vain for him to plead that five minutes in the garden would do her all the good in the world.

“Not when I have amigrainelike this,” she dolefully replied, and repeated the lovely gesture, pushing pain back into her emotional hair, which bronzed and winged above her brows like fine threads of metal.

“When I have a headache like this, nothing cures it but bed,” she averred, and cast herpriez-pour-moilook at him. With a barricade of protecting people about, she was enjoying herself immensely. It was a pity to go away from anything so rousing and exciting as his sultry glances. But it was safer than to stay. You never knew what a lawless man like that might do. She offered her hand in good night, and he was obliged to take it with the best grace he could muster. But he held it very closely, and did not release it until the red colour in her face responded to his pressure. Then, careless of what any one thought, he stood perfectly still, watching her out of sight. She tripped up the stairs, not at all like a woman suffering frommigraine. Her sprightly movements brought a cold, resolute look into his dark face.

Her mind was full of both business and pleasure. First, and always, there were the diamonds wherewith to console solitude. Secondly, she had come by an inspiration during dinner, and was anxious to carry it into effect. It was an inspiration to repay “whatever gods may be” for the felicity of her diamonds by doing a good action which would also bring pleasure to another. She had determined to solace the financial troubles of Valeria Cork by secretly presenting her with Pat’s fifty-pound note. Such noble and pleasant intentions lend wings to the feet. She flew to her room and obtained the note. But a black boy was tidying out a bathroom next door to Mrs Cork’s bedroom, and she could not enter without being seen by him. Trying the balcony, she found a maid flirting there with some one’s valet.

Obliged to possess her soul in patience till the coast was clear, she returned to the contemplation of her diamonds. It was nearly an hour before absolute solitude prevailed and she was able to steal to Mrs Cork’s door—only to find it locked! The door leading from the balcony proved to be in like case. This was a contingency that had not occurred to her. She constantly left her own door unlocked, and supposed that other people did the same. However, her mind was nimble, and never left her long without an idea. She went to her room and placed the banknote flat, in a large white envelope. For a moment, she toyed with the temptation to write, “From a friend,” upon the covering, but decided not to. Mrs Cork might know her writing, and that would never do. She wished the gift to be as anonymous as her own gift from the gods. Returning to the locked door, she knelt down, and, with great difficulty, worked the envelope underneath, computing that, as soon as the door opened, there it would lie, obvious and inviting. When, at last, she rose from her knees flushed and hot, but rather pleased with herself, it was to find Valeria Cork had come soft-footed down the corridor and was leaning against the opposite wall watching the proceedings. She had an unlighted cigarette between her lips and something very like a sneer in her sardonic eyes.

“If you’ve quite finished operations,” she said, “I’ll go in and make the discovery.”

Loree, caught red-handed at her good works, confused andagacée, stood like a convicted thief. For a moment, she thought of explaining. It seemed the only thing to do. But the other woman’s manner was so extraordinarily hostile that she was both alarmed and resentful. In silence and with great dignity, she walked away. But behind her own closed door she stood palpitating with apprehension for what would happen next. She had not long to wait. A sharp knock came on the door, and, without waiting for it to be opened, Valeria Cork marched in, holding the note and envelope as if they were something infectious.

“What is the meaning of this? How dare you?”

Loree, scarlet, stood clinging to the brass, rail of her bed. There did not seem to be any words adequate to the occasion. Impossible to inform this coldly furious woman that she had appeared to an onlooker as a fit recipient for charity. There was a brief silence, Mrs Cork obviously trying to control her temper.

“I should like an explanation of this—thiskindness.” She bit off the last word with the utmost irony.

“There is no explanation,” said Loree lamely.

“But this is your banknote?” Silence.

“I saw you pushing it under my door.” Silence.

“I insist upon an explanation.”

Still Loree kept silence. There was absolutely nothing to say. “I can only suppose,” said Valeria Cork, at last, “that it is some kind of conscience-money you were trying to foist off on me.”

“No, no!” murmured Mrs Temple, her colour growing brighter.

“Then,” said the other slowly, “you were trying to buy me. For some reason or other, you think I am to be bought.” For a moment, she looked at Loree piercingly. “That is my answer.” She flung the note in its owner’s face and swept from the room.

A sad ending to a noble deed! Loree collapsed on to her bed and wept miserably. For a time, at least, even diamonds were powerless to assuage her humiliation.

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