The Chinese Jewel/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI.
TIGHTENING THE CORD.
A MOTOR car, which had made its smooth, swift way with style and verve until now, appeared to be developing sudden internal disorders as it drew abreast of the Stephen Carrington home. It began to slow down; it progressed with a series of little jerks; there was a metallic tapping noise, suggesting that a master pinion was in difficulty—or that a chauffuer, stooping down, clanking a heavy wrench against a convenient lever or pedal. Uncle Abner was nothing if not artistic in fine detail. Then, a couple of score of paces beyond Carrington's, the motor stopped altogether, drawn up to the curb, and the chauffeur, looking over his shoulders, shook his head and announced dismally:
“Somethin's wrong, Miss Alice. Better light out. I'll phone a taxi to come get you and I'll have somebody come tow me in to a garage. Gear's got a tooth broke off, from the sound of it.”
Alice, eying him with vast approval in which there was a showing of her delighted mirth, stepped out and looked up and down the street.
“Why, uncle Abner,” she exclaimed, “we're almost in front of Stephen's home! We can get help there!”
Uncle Abner grunted.
“I'll try to locate the trouble while you run in and have Mr. Carrington send you home. Most likely I can manage to crawl off under my own power to the nearest garage.”
Alice left him working over his car. She ran up the broad steps of the Carrington home and rang. When a servant opened for her:
“It's Miss Blake, Henry,” she said as the man stared at her. “May I come in? Is Mr. Carrington here? If not, I want to telephone.”
Henry allowed her to pass by him, still staring. Never had Miss Blake paid a visit at nearly ten o'clock before, and alone and unannounced. Besides though his master was in, he was not alone. A gentleman, besides the colonel; and besides Mrs. Colonel Harwood, a very noticeable young woman. Alice heard their voices.
“If you'll be seated, Miss Blake,” Henry said, “I'll go and tell Mr. Carrington.
Alice waited where she was, standing, watching the servant hasten down the hallway. A moment later, after brief hush of voices, Stephen came hurrying out to her, his eyes showing his surprise.
“Alice!” he said. “What in the world?”
Alice laughed as at a rare joke.
“We were driving by,” she announced, “had just driven by, in fact, when uncle Abner announced that something had happened to the car. He is out there tinkering with it now. You don't mind sending me home, do you? And letting uncle Abner telephone to a garage for help if he finds it necessary?”
“Easiest thing in the world,” Stephen Carrington cried heartily. “Henry,” to the servant lurking within eavesdropping distance in the hall, “have a car brought around for Miss Blake,” then he added conventionally: “But, now that you are here, won't you stay for a while, Alice?”
Alice had every intention of staying, since that was why she had come.
“Are you sure you want me to?” she inquired innocently.
“Why, of course,” Stephen replied. “I have some friends here whom I want you to meet. The most interesting people”
She went with him, her curiosity more fully piqued than he knew regarding these “most interesting people.” She smiled at Colonel Harwood and his wife, the woman like a thin, bluish icicle. Then she was presented to Marvella Nevil and to Mr. Reagan. She was fully conscious that in the atmosphere there was a something of chill and resentment at her coming; she felt that both the colonel and his wife were asking within themselves what had brought her alone here to-night; she had the sense that Reagan and Marvella Nevil were probing at her from under the smooth veil of urbanity.
“Oh, Stephen,” cried Alice suddenly. “Aren't they beautiful!”
She did not refer to either the colonel or his wife, nor yet to Tom Reagan and Marvella. Her eyes had gone naturally to a round table about which Carrington's guests were grouped. On the table was spread a black velvet cloth; on the cloth were a few of what she knew must be some of the choicest of the famous Carrington jewels. Carrington's eyes were already upon them, and they were the bright, almost feverish eyes of one who fills his vision with his one great obsession. The eyes gloated; they told where the man's heart was. Alice had the sudden uneasy feeling that were Stephen alone with these glowing gems he would be running them through his fingers, even brushing them against his lips. They were luscious like fruits spilled from some fairy basket; there were pearls there whose luster was like that of dawn; rubies shaming the pomegranate, looking to throb with a red pulsating blood of their own; one diamond in a rich setting seemed to live like a vampire upon the lives of the other stones, drawing from all of them for its fire and flashing colors.
Swift as a flash, obeying the urge of impulse, Alice whirled about, looking at Marvella. The woman's eyes showed nothing; there was just a half smile in them as though her interested approval had been pleasantly aroused, nothing more. And yet not even Marvella could control her heart, and Alice saw it beating in her throat, saw the heat of her blood under the white skin. From Marvella she looked to Reagan; his regard, cool and smiling and serene, met her own.
“Wonderful, aren't they?” he offered quietly. “Being just a plain, matter-of-fact business man, I was just telling young Carrington here that there is too much money represented there to give a man a comfortable feeling sleeping with all that in the house.”
Stephen laughed lightly.
“I have a vault here that is as safe as a depository in any city bank,” he explained. “There are empty rooms or halls all about it, above and below, through which members of the household pass all day. There are the various wires and alarms; there is a straight wire to the nearest police station. It would take an expert cracksman a month to break in, even if we stood back and gave him a free hand.”
“But in some bank vault” began Reagan.
Carrington shook his head, annoyed.
“I want them here, where I can have them when I like,” he said almost irritably. “To send them away would be like sending one's children away!” He turned quickly to Marvella. “You understand, don't you?”
“I think so,” said Marvella softly.
Stephen explained to Alice.
“That's why I had them brought out to-night,” he said. “Mrs. Nevil, too, is a connoisseur on jewels. I don't mean a mere expert to tag them with prices! One who understands them, who sees what lies in the heart of them, who reads the message in each. She has some rare things herself; she has promised to show me, some time, the Beauty of Burma.” He spoke of the Beauty of Burma in loving accents. Alice looked at him with fresh curiosity.
“Perhaps I shouldn't have interrupted,” she said lightly. “This appears to be a committee of experts appraising the latest wonders in a new sort of slave market. You will explain how I happened to run in, Stephen?”
“Miss Blake was driving home,” Stephen said, “when she had car trouble. She is going to let me send her on home. But I wanted her to meet you, Mrs, Nevil, and you, Mr. Reagan.”
Before he had done his eyes were again upon the velvet-clothed table. Conversation went back to the subject of precious gems. Carrington explained volubly, pointing out new beauties here and there. Alice moved about the table, chatted a little with the Harwoods, and then devoted herself to Marvella Nevil. And Mrs. Nevil met her advances with evident pleasure.
Alice laid aside her filmy summer wraps. When presently Henry came to report that the car was ready she was chatting gayly with Marvella, and Stephen waved the man away. Alice did not appear to have noted. She seemed to be taking a lively interest in Mrs, Nevil; they appeared to touch common ground at many points. But always the talk came back to rubies and pearls and diamonds. Alice appeared profoundly interested.
“One hears rumors,” Marvella whisperd friendliwise in Alice's ear. “It is possible, I am told, that some day you will be wearing these?”
Alice laughed and did not look displeased. Marvella regarded her intently. The younger girl only answered lightly:
“It would be nice to wear them, wouldn't it?”
“By the way, Stephen,” she said, when there was a little pause, “you are coming up to the farm day after to-morrow, aren't you?”
Stephen started.
“Day after to-morrow?” he asked. “Why, I was thinking that I was to come a week from then?”
Alice's laughter was very ready and gay to-night.
“There's the preoccupied man for you,” she announced. “I am going up to our place in the mountains to-morrow; Stephen was to come the next day. And already he has forgotten.”
“No,” hesitated Carrington, “I hadn't forgotten; I merely misunderstood.”
Alice pouted.
“Of course, if you don't care to come”
“You know I want to,” Carrington said hastily. And, when she half turned away and looked, he thought, hurt, he hastened to add: “I'll be there with bells, Alice, day after to-morrow.”
She knew he would say that. And that he would keep his word. Her strong liking for the boy was founded upon realization of certain fine qualities, and among these was the habit of religiously keeping his word.
Alice appeared delighted.
“And Mrs. Harwood, you and the colonel will come, of course? You both promised to come when I asked you again, you remember. We'll have a nice, quiet country sort of a time. Just lazing around, loafing through the woods or on the lake” Suddenly she seemed to remember Marvella and Reagan for the first time. She turned to them radiantly inviting. “Come, too, won't you? Both of you? Otherwise I'll feel that I am dragging poor Stephen away from sympathetic and very interesting friends. Promise me you'll come. We'll all make our escape from the mountains in rushed order if we get bored or quarrel among ourselves. Or we can spend a lovely ten days. Will you come? Please?”
She knew that if her recent caller, Billy Steele, was right in his surmises neither Reagan nor Marvella would care to lose sight just now of young Carrington for ten days. Ten days might grow into a month, and thereafter extend indefinitely. And she had begun to believe that Steele did know what he was talking about. At any rate, and after no great amount of urging, both Marvella and King Reagan, as well as the Harwoods, promised to be her house guests.
She saw how Carrington was wattching Marvella, hoping she would say yes; she saw how Marvella flashed him a quick smile when her red lips shaped at last to the affirmative; she saw how Reagan also was watching both Marvella and Stephen; she fancied, though no frown disturbed the man's eyes, that a frown was in his heart.
“I predict,” cried Alice merrily, “that we are going to have a wonderful time!”