sometimes as a pin for his scarf. Tambou! I was angry when I found it gone. You should have heard me!”
“I have a diamond,” I said, getting out my pocket-book, “that might do to replace it. Let us see if it will fit.”
I unwrapped the little brilliant and applied it to the break in the circle. Then my heart fell. It was evident in an instant that it had not come from there—it was much smaller than the other stones,—differently cut…
I have seldom experienced a more poignant pang of disappointment. I seemed to have lost more than I had gained. Where, then, had this diamond come from? Who was it had dropped it in suite fourteen? I was lost, confused, utterly at sea. And a moment before, I had been so confident! Well, it was right; it was just! This would be the fate of the whole silly, flimsy fabric we were trying to build against Tremaine.
“No, it will not do,” I stammered, at last. “It is too small,” and I returned it to my pocket. “I shall have to get you another trinket, Cecily.”
She thanked me with a child’s exuberance, then put away her jewels and came back to the divan, talking of many things. But my attention wandered; I answered her mechanically, or not at all; I felt the need of being alone and setting my discoveries in order; of finding out whether I had gained or lost ground. In any event, we should have to take a fresh start—the trail we had been following led nowhere—ended in a swamp.
Cecily perceived my indifference in a moment—she
