The Blood-Red Cross | Page 6

shall
have your way, Tonia --yes, certainly. For you I will grant what has
never been granted before. All the same, what will my lady say?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"But you will let me wear them whether she is angry or not?" persisted
Antonia.
"Yes, child, I have said it." She took his hand and raised it to her lips,
then, with a curtsy, tripped out of the room.
"A rare, bright little bird," he said, turning to me. "Do you know, I feel
that I have done an extraordinarily good thing for myself in securing
little Antonia. No troublesome mamma in-law--no brothers and sisters,
not my own and yet emphatically mine to consider--just the child

herself. I am very happy and a very lucky fellow. I am glad my little
girl has no past history. She is just her dear little, dainty self, no more
and no less."
"What did she want with you now?" I asked.
"Little witch," he said, with a laugh. "The pearls--the pearls. She insists
on wearing the great necklace on the night of the ball. Dear little girl. I
can fancy how the baubles will gleam and shine on her fair throat."
I made no answer, but I was certain that little Antonia's request did not
emanate from herself. I thought that I would search for Vandeleur and
tell him of the circumstance, but the next remark of Rowland's nipped
my project in the bud.
"By the way, your friend has promised to be back for dinner. He left
here early this morning."
"Vandeleur?" I cried.
"Yes, he has gone to town. What a first-rate fellow he is!"
"He tells a good story," I answered.
"Capital. Who would suspect him of being the greatest criminal expert
of the day? But, thank goodness, we have no need of his services at
Rowland's Folly."
Late in the evening Vandeleur returned He entered the house just
before dinner. I observed by the brightness of his eyes and the intense
gravity of his manner that he was satisfied with himself. This in his
case was always a good sign. At dinner he was his brightest self,
courteous to everyone, and to Madame Sara in particular.
Late that night, as I was preparing to go to bed, he entered my room
without knocking.
"Well, Druce," he said, "it is all right."

"All right!" I cried; "what do you mean?"
"You will soon know. The moment I saw that woman I had my
suspicions. I was in town to-day making some very interesting inquiries.
I am primed now on every point. Expect a dŽnouement of a startling
character very soon, but be sure of one thing--however black
appearances may be the little bride is safe, and so are the pearls."
He left me without waiting for my reply.
The next day passed, and the next. I seemed to live on tenter-hooks.
Little Antonia was gay and bright like a bird. Madame's invitation had
been extended by Lady Kennedy at Rowland's command to the day
after the ball--little Antonia skipped when she heard it.
"I love her," said the girl.
More and more guests arrived---the days flew on wings--the evenings
were lively. Madame was a power in herself. Vandeleur was another.
These two, sworn foes at heart, aided and abetted each other to make
things go brilliantly for the rest of the guests. Rowland was in the
highest spirits.
At last the evening before the ball came and went. Vandeleur's grand
coup had not come off. I retired to bed as usual. The night was a stormy
one--rain rattled against the window-panes, the wind sighed and
shuddered. I had just put out my candle and was about to seek
forgetfulness in sleep when once again in his unceremonious fashion
Vandeleur burst into my room.
"I want you at once, Druce, in the bed-room of Madame Sara's servant.
Get into your clothes as fast as you possibly can and join me there."
He left the room as abruptly as he had entered it. I hastily dressed, and
with stealthy steps, in the dead of night, to the accompaniment of the
ever-increasing tempest, sought the room in question.
I found it brightly lighted; Vandeleur pacing the floor as though he

himself were the very spirit of the storm; and, most astonishing sight of
all, the nurse whom Madame Sara had brought to Rowland's Folly, and
whose name I had never happened to hear, gagged and bound in a chair
drawn into the centre of the room.
"So I think that is all, nurse," said Vandeleur, as I entered. "Pray take a
chair, Druce. We quite understand each other, don't we, nurse, and the
facts are wonderfully simple. Your name as entered in the archives of
crime at Westminster is not as you have given out,