CHAPTER XVIIILIGHT-FINGERED GENTRY
Tom Nicholspassed down the long line of the receiving party at the Charity Ball and paused near the north end of the New Willard ballroom and looked about him. The floor was thronged with dancers, and from where he stood it was impossible to make out the occupants of the boxes which lined the length of the room on both sides. He waited for some minutes, hoping that at the end of the dance he would be able to walk about the floor, but the music was continuous, the Marine Band breaking into a fox trot when the Engineer Band at the opposite end of the room, ceased playing. He shouldered his way through the waiting men, and dodging between the dancers, he walked down the room as best he could, and reaching the center spied Marjorie and Janet sitting in their box with several friends. In a few seconds he joined them.
“Better late than never, Tom,” exclaimed Marjorie gaily. “You’re a sight for sair e’en. Janet dear, here is Captain Nichols.”
“Oh, how are you,” Janet paused long enough in her conversation with Baron von Valkenberg to takeTom’s hand, then deliberately turned her back on him.
Tom’s lips were compressed in a hard line as he bowed to Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper, who was occupying an adjoining seat in the next box, and leaning across the brass railing which divided them, he conversed for a short time with her. A movement in his own box caused him to turn back, and he discovered Janet on the point of leaving. He stepped in front of her deliberately.
“My dance, Miss Janet,” he announced. A quick denial sprang to her lips, only to be checked by the quiet confidence of his manner. Tom encountered von Valkenberg’s astonished stare over her shoulder, and addressed him directly. “Sorry, Baron, to disappoint you, but Miss Janet promised me this dance some time ago; come,” and with care he assisted Janet down the few steps leading to the floor.
So congested was the dancing that after circling the room once Tom stopped his partner near the entrance to the small ballroom and led her inside it.
“Suppose we sit over there,” he said pointing to some chairs at the farther corner of the room. “There is no pleasure in dancing with such a mob on the floor.”
“It’s much cooler here,” volunteered Janet, a few minutes later, breaking a pause which threatened to become awkward.
“Yes,” absently.
Janet glanced askance at Tom. She had longedto see him, and now that he was by her side, she was tongue-tied. She knew that every instant spent in Tom’s society would arouse Barnard’s jealous rage, but forbidden fruit was sweet.
“Why did you boast of our motor trip to Hyattsville?” she blurted out.
“I, boast of it? I never mentioned it to a soul!” If she had exploded a firecracker before Tom, he could not have been more astounded. “I swear I never told anyone,” he added, with vigor, and her aching heart was comforted.
“I believe you,” she answered, with such trust kindling her shy regard that Tom hitched his chair closer to her side.
“Did you really think I had betrayed your precious confidence in me?” Janet shook her head.
“I couldn’t, just couldn’t, believe it,” she admitted.
“You darling!” Tom’s hand sought hers. “Who dared to say I boasted of such a thing?”
“As long as you didn’t do it, the rest doesn’t matter,” declared Janet, with true feminine logic, and changed the subject abruptly. “Was it fun at the White House?”
“I’d have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t wanted to be elsewhere,” admitted Tom truthfully. “An invitation to the White House is final—to an army or navy officer; I couldn’t decline it, no previous engagement plea goes. I hope you understand....”
“Oh, quite,” Janet was nervously playing with her fan. “But there have been other times when youmight have co—when the White House wouldn’t have interfered with your coming to—to—see me.”
“Only your wish kept me away.”
“My wish?” Startled, Janet faced toward him.
“Certainly; how else was I to construe your silence?”
“My silence!” indignantly. “Did you want me to cry from the house-tops that I wished to see you?”
“Such an extreme measure was not necessary,” retorted Tom stiffly. “An answer to my message would have been sufficient.”
“I never received any message from you.”
“What! Why, I told your brother to ask you to telephone when I could call and see you?”
“He never told me—only mentioned you were to dine with us tonight——”
“That’s the limit!” Tom banged his sword-hilt with his fist. “Not getting any reply from you I jumped to the conclusion you were tired of seeing me.”
“For a soldier you’re mighty easily discouraged,” taunted Janet, her spirits rising as the misgivings and doubts of the past few days gave way before Tom’s explanations.
“Never again,” vowed Tom. “Next time I’ll storm the citadel. But joking aside,” dropping his bantering tone. “I did try to see you; called several times, telephoned—but you were always out. I finally decided it was intentional; thought you wanted to drop me.”
“How could you be so unjust!” Janet’s reproachfullook caused Tom’s heart to beat more rapidly under his blue uniform. “I am always loyal to my friends. You won’t back out of dining with us tomorrow night?”
“What a way to put it?” Tom made a slight grimace. “Of course, I’m coming, and I’ll count the hours until then.”
“The day after Christmas I waited in for you the whole afternoon and evening, and you never came,” continued Janet plaintively.
“I couldn’t get away from Myer that afternoon, and had to wait until Friday before going to Hyattsville to redeem your bracelet. By the way that bracelet is very beautiful,” lowering his voice. “The emeralds and diamonds are exceptionally fine, and the workmanship exquisite.”
“I am so glad your taste coincides with mine,” said Janet, with a quick coquettish glance upward. “I couldn’t bear to lose the bracelet; it is so unique.”
Tom stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen another bracelet like it?” he questioned at length. A keen glance accompanied the words, but Janet was watching the distant dancers, and her expression conveyed nothing to him.
“N—no, I don’t believe I have,” she replied slowly, and Tom’s heart sank. “It’s unusual appearance is one of its beauties to me. Have you my bracelet with you?”
“Have I?” in profound astonishment. “No,” then seeing her disappointed look, he asked sharply, “Why should you expect me to have your bracelet?”
“Who else would have it?” her eyes opening wider. “Didn’t you redeem it for me?”
“Of course I did, but I left it at your house on Saturday.”
“Left it at my house?” she half rose, then sank back again in her chair. “I have never received it.”
“What! Didn’t you find it in the box of violets?”
“Violets? I never received any violets from you.”
“You didn’t?” Tom’s bewilderment was so pronounced that Janet took fright.
“D—do you think the florist stole the bracelet?” she demanded breathlessly.
“No, he couldn’t have. I bought the violets at Small’s, took them with me in my motor, and on a side street opened the box and slipped the bracelet over the stems, where you couldn’t fail to see it. I left the box at your house myself.”
Janet looked at him queerly. “Ah, indeed; and with which member of the household did you leave it?”
“I gave it to Perkins, and he promised to deliver it to you immediately on your return.”
“He never gave it to me.”
Tom rose. “I’ll go straight up to your house and ask him for it.”
“No, no.” She laid a restraining hand on his sword-hilt. “He is probably in bed by now; mother’s so thoughtful for her servants, she lets them retire early when I’m out with Duncan; he always has his latchkey. I’ll ask Perkins first thing in the morning.”
“And will you let me know the results?” Tom resumed his seat. “I shall be on tenter-hooks until I know the bracelet is safely in your hands. I feel responsible, you know; if it’s lost....”
“Nonsense,” noting his worried air. “Bracelets have disappeared before; don’t take it to heart.”
“Can you tell me which jewelry shop it came from——?”
It was some moments before she replied. “It was an antique.”
Tom’s heart grew heavy again. At every question he ran into a blank wall. How was he ever to disprove Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper’s absurd statement unless he had something tangible to work on. The bracelet was surely bewitched by some evil genius.
“An antique? That’s hard luck,” he answered finally. “If it is really lost through my carelessness in trusting a servant, I shall want to replace it....”
“You mustn’t think of such a thing,” vehemently.
“Oh, but I insist. You draw the design and I’ll have it made.”
“I shouldn’t think of letting you go to all that expense,” protested Janet.
“To think I made you lose an ornament you value!” groaned Tom. “I, who would move heaven and earth to spare you the slightest....” but Janet never waited for him to complete the sentence; she had caught sight of Chichester Barnard standing in the doorway talking to Mrs. Walbridge. His back was turned to them; it was just possible that hehad not seen that she was with Tom. She sprang to her feet.
“Do forgive me,” she whispered hurriedly. “Marjorie has just waved to me; I must go. Please don’t follow me.” And before the startled officer could even get to his feet she had darted across the floor and out of the room, and brought up breathless beside Mrs. Walbridge.
“No sign of late hours in these rosy cheeks,” commented the latter, touching Janet’s scarlet face with her gloved finger. “She needs no beauty sleep.”
“Indeed, no,” agreed Barnard. “But I’m going to be selfish enough to ask Miss Janet to sit out a dance with me,” laying his hand with an air of possession on her arm which enlightened sentimental Mrs. Walbridge.
“Run along,” she directed, interrupting Janet’s hasty protests. “I was young once myself. Don’t bother to wait for me. My husband will get me some fruit punch.”
Reluctantly Janet walked toward her box, Barnard in close attendance. In her desire not to have him see her with Tom, she had given him an opening for a quiet chat with her alone—unless Marjorie was in their box. But Marjorie, attended by Baron von Valkenberg, had gone “visiting” in a neighboring box, and Duncan was dancing with Pauline Calhoun-Cooper. Janet prayed that Barnard was in a pleasant mood; she had grown to dread his uncertain temper. He could be so charming when he wantedto. Her heart was fluttering like a caged bird as she preceded Barnard into the empty box; she dared not offend him, and she dreaded more scenes.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” she began.
“For what?”
“On your inheritance.”
“Oh, that!” Barnard spoke as if it were a mere bagatelle. “I may be a long time getting it; settling an estate is tedious work. Aunt Margaret was angelic to remember me in her will, and I am doubly grateful, because, when I receive the inheritance I can lavish it all on you, my darling,” bending toward her, but a loud burst of laughter from the Calhoun-Cooper box caused him to look in that direction. Janet moved her chair imperceptibly nearer the brass railing and away from his side.
“On second’s thought I don’t believe I’ll let you spend any of your inheritance on me,” she remarked thoughtfully, as he turned back to her. The pupils of his eyes contracted, and Janet was conscious of a feeling akin to repulsion.
“What do you mean?” he demanded.
“I’m not good enough for you, Chichester,” she stammered. “You should marry a woman of brilliant mental attainments—a woman of the world—I’m only an unformed schoolgirl.”
“You have too modest an opinion of yourself,” he protested with passionate ardor. “It’s your freshness, your originality which I adore. My bonnie lassie and her susceptible heart!” His voice and eyes caressed her, and a warmer color suffused hercheeks. “I’m not half good enough for you, but such as I am, I am your slave always.”
“Always!” she echoed, and Barnard leaned forward to look more closely at her, but she avoided his direct gaze, and concentrated her attention on the dancers on the floor beneath them.
All Washington apparently was present to aid the pet charity for which the ball was annually given, and men and women in every condition of life were enjoying the entertainment. High government officials, diplomats, leaders of the ultra-smart set, and members of the resident circle vied with each other to make the ball a success. Janet scanned the opposite boxes in which sat beautifully gowned women, whose superb jewels glittered in the rays of the hundreds of electric lights.
“My darling!” She jumped nervously, and held up a protesting hand.
“Hush!” she cautioned. “Don’t forget Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper is sitting near us, and she may overhear....”
“Why doesn’t she go away,” muttered Barnard disgustedly. “Lately, I seldom have you to myself. If I was of a suspicious nature, I might think it was intentional”—Janet squirmed in her chair, and after contemplating her a moment in smiling satisfaction, Barnard again inspected Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper. “She looks like an Indian begum.”
“Don’t be so unkind in your criticism,” with an effort Janet summoned a careless smile. “Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s gown is a creation.”
“Hum! the modiste has left most of the surface to be covered by jewels—cold comfort tonight. Don’t you want your scarf over your shoulders?”
“No, thank you; I am still warm from dancing.” Janet’s eyes again sought the throng below her. “I wonder where Marjorie is—and Duncan. Oh, look, who is the pretty woman dancing with Joe Calhoun-Cooper?”
Barnard glanced in the direction she indicated, and his eyebrows rose suggestively. “No one you are likely to know, lady bird. How fearfully they dance.”
“She is graceful,” declared Janet. “But Joe—nothing could make him so.”
“Women take to the new-fangled dances better than the men,” grumbled Barnard. “Give me the old-fashioned waltz and two-step every time. Even the music has deteriorated; no melody any more. Listen to that,” as the Marine Band burst into a popular tune, “nothing to be heard but the big drum, it drowns every other instrument—hark!”
“But I don’t want to hear it,” she objected. “Let us talk instead.”
“That is just what we can’t do—the big drum sounds distinct and clear; listen—!”
“Barnard again inspected Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper. ‘She looks like an Indian begum.’”
“Barnard again inspected Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper. ‘She looks like an Indian begum.’”
Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper’s ever busy eyes had also noted the pretty woman with whom Joe was dancing, and a displeased frown marked her forehead. She was about to send one of her guests after Joe with a message that she desired his presence, when she observed Marjorie Langdon approaching. Joe andhis pretty partner stopped dancing near the latter, and Marjorie, recognizing Kathryn Allen, stepped forward and held out her hand, but no sign of recognition lighted the nurse’s face, and after inspecting Marjorie with marked insolence she cut her dead. Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper, an interested spectator of the little drama, thrilled with satisfaction as she caught the hot resentment that flamed in Marjorie’s face. Controlling herself, Marjorie stepped back out of the crowd and came face to face with Duncan Fordyce.
“I don’t know where you’ve been keeping yourself,” he said, “but I searched both ballrooms and haven’t found a sign of you until now.”
“I haven’t been dancing,” she sighed rather wearily. “Mrs. Burns asked me to sit in her box for a while; I am on my way back to Janet now to arrange about going down to supper.”
“Let us have one dance first,” pleaded Duncan, and taking silence for consent, he slipped his arm about her waist and they threaded a way through the other dancers.
Pushing unpleasant thoughts to one side, Marjorie surrendered herself wholly to the pleasure of the moment. The pressure of Duncan’s strong arm gave her a sense of protection which soothed her jagged nerves unutterably, and she danced almost without being conscious of the people around her. Duncan’s gaze sought her face so persistently that they had several narrow escapes from bad collisions. They were turning a corner near the entrance to the smallballroom when they caromed violently into a man who was striving to make his way down the room, and shot him against the side of one of the boxes.
“I beg your pardon,” apologized Duncan and Marjorie in concert, and the stranger, recovering his equilibrium, stared fixedly at Duncan.
“Nice way to treat old friends,” he began, but got no further.
“Paul Potter! by all that’s glorious!” shouted Duncan, seizing his hand and wringing it hard. “Where did you drop from?”
“New York, stopping with Judge and Mrs. Walbridge. I tried to telephone you”——he stopped out of breath.
“Miss Langdon, let me present Dr. Paul Potter, of San Francisco,” broke in Duncan, and Marjorie found herself looking into the most piercing eyes she had ever seen in human head, as her hand was taken in a firm clasp.
“Very glad to meet you, Miss Langdon,” said the physician cordially. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your dance.”
“We were on the point of stopping——” she began.
“Not so that I could notice it,” and Dr. Potter’s eyes twinkled.
“I am afraid we were exceeding the speed limit,” acknowledged Duncan. “Come over to our box, Paul, and sit with us.”
“I can’t, old man, I must be getting back to Mrs. Walbridge; she is anxious to go down to supper.”
“Perhaps we can get a table together. Come on, I’ll ask Mrs. Walbridge, her box is near ours.”
Marjorie accompanied the two men to the steps leading to the boxes, but on approaching the one occupied by Mrs. Walbridge she turned and addressed Duncan.
“I won’t wait for you,” she said, “but will join Janet at once.”
“Very well, I’ll be along in a minute,” and Marjorie hastened down the narrow aisle alone.
Janet and Chichester Barnard were still sitting as close as the chairs permitted in the corner of the box, their heads almost touching as they whispered together, and Marjorie’s eyes narrowed as she took in the tableau. She had watched Janet dancing with Tom with a contented mind, and the last she had seen of Barnard he was dancing attendance on Mrs. Walbridge.
“Well, good people, thinking of supper?” she inquired, and noticed with an odd sensation Janet’s flushed face and embarrassed manner as she turned to meet her.
“Our thoughts are not so material,” protested Barnard easily.
“N—no?” and the faint irony of her tone was not lost on Barnard’s keen susceptibilities.
“Who was the little man walking down the room with you and Duncan, Marjorie?” questioned Janet hurriedly. “His face looked familiar.”
“Dr. Potter, of San Francisco.”
“Of course; how stupid of me not to recognizehim, he once attended mother,” in a hurried aside as her brother and Tom entered the box.
“Going down to supper?” asked Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper, attracted by her neighbors’ preparations for leaving.
“Yes,” replied Marjorie shortly.
“Then suppose we join forces,” ignoring the lack of cordiality in Marjorie’s manner. “Kindly hand me my scarf.” Her overbearing tone brought the carmine to Marjorie’s cheeks, and a hot retort was on her lips when, thinking better of it, she mastered her indignation. Stooping she picked up the gold and silver Coronation scarf which had fallen inside their box, and laid it across Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s bare expanse of shoulder.
“All ready?” questioned Duncan, inspecting his small party. “Then come on.”
Once in the crowded dining-room on the ground floor of the New Willard, Marjorie thanked a kindly Providence which ordained that the tables were too small to accommodate the Calhoun-Cooper party and her own, and she saw them depart to another quarter of the room with inward joy. Barnard, silently resenting that he was the fifth spoke in the wheel, left them, and joined another group of friends, and Duncan, contemplating his sister and Tom already deep in conversation, gave his undivided attention to Marjorie. They were none of them conscious of the tardiness of the service, or the flight of time, and Tom gave voice to genuine regretas they finally rose from the table and made their way to the lift.
“Why do good times have to end?” he grumbled. “I don’t know when I have enjoyed myself so much.”
“It has been fun,” agreed Janet softly, secretly longing to linger beside the distinguished-looking young officer. “Shall we see you at dinner tomorrow?”
“You bet!” he whispered, with emphasis.
“Go ahead, Janet,” Duncan’s strong arm propelled his sister forward. “Don’t you see the lift is waiting?”
As Marjorie and Tom started to follow them some new arrivals pushed rudely between, and an instant later, the packed elevator shot upward.
“Never mind, we’ll catch the next one,” said Tom consolingly, as he darted to the second shaft. “It’s coming down now.” They waited impatiently for the passengers in the elevator to step out in the square hall, then entered and found they had the lift to themselves. The elevator boy was about to release the lever, when the starter tapped on the glass partition, and throwing open the door, permitted Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper to step inside.
“Good evening, sir,” said Marjorie cordially.
“Oh, how do you do,” replied Calhoun-Cooper, somewhat taken aback on recognizing his companions. He barely nodded to Tom, whose greeting was equally curt; and Marjorie, becoming aware ofthe apparently strained relations between the two men, broke the awkward silence.
“I am afraid you are too late to see the ball at its height,” she said.
“I couldn’t get here any earlier,” answered Calhoun-Cooper. “Have you seen my wife and daughter this evening?”
“Yes; they finished supper before we did, and have already gone back to the ballroom.”
Calhoun-Cooper, who had been watching Marjorie with peculiar intentness, wheeled on Tom.
“My congratulations, Captain,” he said sardonically. “You executed my commission with commendable quickness.”
“I don’t catch your meaning, sir,” retorted Tom frigidly.
“The bracelet was returned to me this evening. My thanks to you—both,” and bowing he turned to the door as the boy brought the lift to a stop.
Under the shock of his words Tom and Marjorie stood stock still, eying one another in complete bewilderment, while one question raced through the brains of both: what did the other know of the lost bracelet?
“All out,” exclaimed the elevator boy insistently, as he rolled back the door, and Marjorie, recovering herself first, followed Calhoun-Cooper into the reception hall out of which opened the large ballroom and cloak-rooms.
Just as Calhoun-Cooper started for the ballroom,Pauline crossed the threshold, and seeing her father, stopped short.
“Oh, father!” she exclaimed, making no effort to lower her penetrating voice. “Mother’s pearl necklace has been stolen from her.”