CHAPTER XIITHE THEFT
Judithhad not inherited her mother’s fondness for being waited upon and therefore she had never employed a personal maid. After her interview with Polly she went immediately to her bedroom and it required but a brief time to put away her coat and scarf. In removing the latter from around her neck, its delicate mesh caught in the diamond horseshoe pin, her only ornament, which she wore in the front of her evening dress. In striving to free the scarf she discovered to her dismay that one of the diamonds was missing from the horseshoe.
The pin had been her husband’s wedding gift. Throwing down the scarf, Judith bent anxiously and peered at the carpet, but it was difficult to see so small an object against its soft coloring. Dropping to her knees, she felt about until her fingers touched a hard substance. A look at it disclosed the missing diamond, and with an exclamation of pleasure and relief Judith rose, folded the stone in a piece of tissue paper andplaced it with the diamond pin in her jewelry box. In doing so she caught sight of a gold locket safely ensconced in the bottom of the box under several bracelets and chains. Judith considered the locket gravely, then closed and locked the jewelry box just as her name was called in the boudoir. With heightened color, she hastened across the bedroom and joined her husband.
“I did not hear you enter, Joe,” she exclaimed as he held out both hands to her. “How does it happen that you returned so early? I thought you planned to run in and see Dr. McLane about that troublesome cough of yours?”
“Oh, that can wait until morning,” lightly. “I came back to be with you.” He placed a morris chair for her before the hearth, where a coal fire burned fitfully, and perched himself on the chair’s broad mahogany arm. “I haven’t seen you alone to-day.” His voice was tinged with reproach.
Judith slipped a hand inside his. “I did not mean to neglect you,” she said. “But Mother and certain business matters claimed a lot of attention. Why,”—turning her head as it rested against the cushion of the high-backed chair—“why did you volunteer to dine with Father at the club and not come with us to Rauscher’s?”
“It was your mother’s plan, not mine.” Richard laughed softly. “My first impressions of your mother have radically changed.”
“In what way?”
“I thought her all fuss and feathers, but underneath it she has a will of iron.” Richards’ smile grew rueful. “Does your father ever oppose her wishes?”
It was Judith’s turn to smile. “Not if he can help it,” she admitted. “Father is something of a diplomat as far as Mother is concerned. Perhaps you have noticed it.”
“Yes.” Richards stared into the fire; he had become grave. “Somehow, dearest, I do not believe your father likes me. Oh, he’s been polite enough,”—as she was about to speak—“but there is something in his manner,—well,”—with another rueful smile—“it couldn’t by any stretch of the imagination be termed cordial at any time, and lately”—he hesitated—“the dislike is more apparent.”
Judith’s pretty color, which had come when she found him waiting for her in the boudoir, had waned. “Lately?” she queried. “Do you mean within the last few days?”
“Yes; to be exact, since Austin’s Hale’s mur—death,” he caught himself up. “Don’t mind, darling,”observing the shadows which had gathered in her eyes. “I am sorry I mentioned the subject. Your father, like the rest of us, is upset by the tragedy—we will all return to normal when the mystery is solved.”
“When?” Judith contemplated her well-fitting suède slipper and the embroidered silk stockings just peeping beneath her skirt. “Have the police advanced any new theories?”
“Only that the crime was premeditated.”
Judith looked up. “Premeditated? Then some one must have known of Austin’s plans to come here Tuesday night.” She drew in her breath sharply. “Some bitter enemy.” She again looked directly up at Richards and found him gazing in the fire. “What is your theory?”
“My theory? I hardly knew—know anything of Austin, therefore it is difficult for me to form a theory.” Judith took silent note of his quickly covered confusion, and her hand, still resting in his, moved uneasily. “Was Austin the type of man to have an implacable enemy?”
“N—no,” Judith drawled out the word. “He sometimes had a nasty way of speaking, which used to annoy Uncle John; but he was generally very agreeable, and some people found him fascinating.”
“Meaning women?” Judith did not reply at once, and Richards’ eyes narrowed. “You think that Austin was killed on impulse?”
“So it appears to me,” she confessed and suppressed a shudder.
There was a brief silence, then Richards roused himself. “I agree with you,” he said. “The nature of the weapon used proves that.”
“The shears?” Judith glanced up and then looked quickly away. “You think Austin was stabbed with the shears?”
“Evidently, for there was no other weapon.”
“No other weapon has been found,” Judith corrected him softly. “The murderer may have carried it off with him.”
“True,” acknowledged Richards, “but then how came the shears to have blood on them? For what purpose were they used?”
Judith’s breathing seemed suspended for an infinitesimal second, and several minutes elapsed before she spoke.
“I am not good at solving problems.” She twirled his seal ring, which she had given him, about on his finger. “Have you heard Uncle John’s theory that Austin was killed by a burglar?”
Richards regarded her fixedly for a minute.“Is that so!” he exclaimed. “And what leads him to suspect a burglar?”
“Austin’s gold watch is missing.” Judith felt his arm slip down about her shoulders, and his weight rested against the cushioned back of her chair. “Also, Father found some papers missing from his safe.”
“He did—when?” The question shot from Richards.
“Sometime Thursday. I don’t know exactly when.” Judith caught his intent gaze, and while her heart beat a bit more rapidly, she continued to look directly at him.
“Has he notified the police?”
“I presume so. He was talking to Detective Ferguson yesterday just before dinner.” Judith’s voice sounded a trifle strained in her own ears, but apparently Richards took no notice. His gaze had shifted again to the fireplace.
“When Mr. Hale first examined the safe he declared that its contents were intact,” he remarked. “Your news is surprising, Judith. It may be that poor Austin found a burglar rifling the safe and was killed by him—it is a reasonable hypothesis in the light of your father’s discovery. You said something else was missing—”
“Yes, Austin’s watch. It was a valuable heirloominherited from his grandfather, and he always carried it with him. The watch has not been found either on his body or in his room.”
“But, Judith, it may be among his effects in New York,” Richards suggested. “Your mother told me that he had quarters at the Yale Club and kept a trunk there.”
Judith shook her head. “Uncle John talked to the steward of the club on the long distance telephone, and a search was made, but the watch could not be found.” Abruptly she changed the subject. “Will you please hand me a glass of water, Joe?”
Richards had started for the door when she called him back. “Don’t go downstairs, the ice water is here,” she looked about the boudoir. “There, Maud put it over by the bedroom door.”
Richards filled a glass for her and replacing it a moment later on the table, he poured out a glass for himself and almost gulped it down. Crossing the room, he again seated himself on the arm of Judith’s chair.
“Judith,” he began, “a strange thing happened to-day and I want to tell you about it.”
“Yes, dear,” she prompted gently, as he paused. “Go on.”
But Richards evidently found some difficulty incontinuing, for several seconds elapsed before he spoke again.
“The treasurer of the Metropolis Bank called me up this afternoon and asked me to stop in and see him,” he went on. “And when I reached the bank I was informed that ten thousand dollars had been placed to my credit.”
“Good gracious!” Judith clapped her hands. “Why, Joe!”
“Exactly—why?” dryly. “Why should any one do such a thing? I have no near relatives, no one under obligation to me, and so I told the bank treasurer, but he refused to disclose the donor’s name or by whose authority the bank had acted. He did assure me that it was perfectly proper for me to use the money, stating that it was a gift without a string tied to it and that the money is legally mine.”
“But that is splendid!” exclaimed Judith. “Are you not elated?”
“No, only puzzled,” Richards admitted slowly. “I have racked my brain, Judith, to find out where that money could have come from, and”—he held her close to him, his eyes scanning her face. “Didyougive it to me?”
Slowly her eyes fell before his ardent look and a telltale blush mantled her cheeks.
“Yes,” she murmured, and for a second clung to him, then pushed him gently from her. Suddenly he raised her hands and kissed them passionately.
“Judith,”—he steadied his voice before continuing—“I can never thank you, never. Therefore it is all the harder to tell you that I cannot take your money.”
“But you must!” she exclaimed in alarm. “Dear, I am wealthy in my own right and this money is some I had lying idle in a savings bank. It is no sacrifice for me to give it to you.”
“I would like to think that it is,” he murmured wistfully. “Tell me, dearest, what put it into your head to make me so generous a present?”
“I—eh—” Judith’s native honesty would not permit an evasion. “I heard that you had met with reverses in business, Joe.”
Richards looked at her long and intently. “You heard?” he repeated. “Where?”
Judith raised a protesting finger. “‘Ask me no questions—’” she quoted, “you know the old saw, Joe”; and before he had time to frame another question, she asked reproachfully. “Why did you not come to me at once, Joe? I would gladly have helped.”
A dull red flush mounted almost to Richards’forehead and he averted his eyes from her steady gaze.
“I can’t borrow from a woman, Judith—even the very best and dearest woman in the world,” he confessed. “Keep your money, sweetheart. My financial embarrassment was only temporary, but”—his voice deepened with emotion—“I prize your loyalty above all earthly things. Judith, I shall strive to be worthy of you,” and dropping on one knee he kissed her hand with fervor.
Judith saw his shapely head and fine features through a mist of tears. Her faith in him should stand all tests. In spite of what she had learned of the stolen bonds, he must be innocent—he was worthy of her trust, her love. Impulsively she leaned nearer and he caught her in passionate embrace.
The clock had ticked away fully an hour when Judith awoke to the time.
“It is almost midnight,” she exclaimed reproachfully and rose in haste. As she walked across the boudoir her attention was attracted by a package of addressed and stamped envelopes. “Oh, I forgot to give these to Maud to mail first thing in the morning, and they are important.”
“Let me have them.” Richards snatched themup. “There is a post box in front of the house; I’ll be right back.” And he hastened down the hall to the circular staircase.
Not waiting to lower any of the lights, Judith went into her bedroom and started to undress. It took but a moment to slip on her wrapper, and she was about to comb her hair when the disorderly appearance of her dressing table startled her. Her toilet articles were tossed hither and yon.
Judith’s hand sought her jewelry box; the key was already turned in the lock. Tossing back the lid, she gazed inside—the box was empty.
A half-strangled cry escaped from her white lips and Richards heard it as he entered the boudoir; a second more and he was by her side.
“See—my jewels—they are gone,” she gasped. “Your horseshoe, even, Joe.”
“Hush, my darling, I’ll find it or get you another.” Alarmed by her pallor, he picked up a bottle of smelling salts which stood on the dressing table and held it open before her. “I will replace the jewelry.”
“You can’t replace the locket.”
“The locket!” Richards changed color. “Have you lost the locket?”
In her agitation she failed to catch his question.
“My jewelry was here, every piece, and the locket, when I went in to speak to you, Joe,” she declared. “I added the horseshoe just before you called me.”
Richards gazed at her in dumfounded silence. “What is that?” he asked. “You left your jewelry in that box when you came in to talk to me in the boudoir a little while ago?”
“Yes; I can swear to it.”
Richards sped to the closet door and flung it open. Only wearing apparel rewarded his search. A glance at the windows showed that they were closed and locked on the inside, the bathroom and dressing room beyond were empty! Convinced of that, he turned back to Judith who had sunk into the chair before the dressing table.
“Was any one with you in this room?” he asked.
“No, I was alone.” Judith passed her hand dazedly before her eyes, then again inspected the empty box. “Every piece of jewelry is gone,” she stated, “and the box was full two hours ago.”
“Are you sure, Judith?”
“Absolutely certain—the jewelry was stolen within the last two hours.”
Richards looked first at her and then at the empty box.
“How can that be?” he asked. “There is no entrance to this bedroom except through the boudoir—and you and I, Judith, have been in the boudoir for the past two hours.”