The Duchess of Wiltshires Diamonds | Page 3

lordship ten minutes or
so later, when they had explored the principal rooms.
"I am very glad to hear you say so," said Carne." I trust your lordship
will remember that you will always be welcome in the house as long as
I am its owner."'
"It is very kind of you to say so," returned Lord Amberley warmly. "I
shall look forward to some months of pleasant intercourse. And now I
must be going. To-morrow, perhaps, if you have nothing better to do,
you will give us the pleasure of your company at dinner. Your fame has
already gone abroad, and we shall ask one or two nice people to meet
you, including my brother and sister-in-law. Lord and Lady Gelpington,
Lord and Lady Orpington, and my cousin, the Duchess of Wiltshire,
whose interest in China and Indian Art, as perhaps you know, is only
second to your own."
"I shall be most glad to come."
"We may count on seeing you in Eaton Square, then, at eight o'clock?"
"If I am alive you may be sure I shall be there. Must you really go?
Then good-bye, and many thanks for meeting me."
His lordship having left the house Simon Carne went upstairs to his
dressing room, which it was to be noticed he found without inquiry,
and rang the electric bell, beside the fireplace, three times. While he
was waiting for it to be answered he stood looking out of the window at
the long line of carriages in the street below.
"Everything is progressing admirably," he said to himself. "Amberley
does not suspect any more than the world in general. As a proof he asks
me to dinner to-morrow evening to meet his brother and sister-in-law,
two of his particular friends, and above all Her Grace of Wiltshire. Of
course I shall go, and when I bid Her Grace good-bye it will be strange
if I am not one step nearer the interest on Liz's money."

At this moment the door opened, and his valet, the grave and
respectable Belton, entered the room. Carne turned to greet him
impatiently.
"Come, come, Belton," he said, "we must be quick. It is twenty minutes
to twelve and if we don't hurry, the folk next door will become
impatient. Have you succeeded in doing what I spoke to you about last
night?"
"I have done everything, sir."
"I am glad to hear it. Now lock that door and let us get to work. You
can let me have your news while I am dressing."
Opening one side of a massive wardrobe that completely filled one end
of the room, Belton took from it a number of garments. They included
a well worn velvet coat, a baggy pair of trousers--so old that only a
notorious pauper or a millionaire could have afforded to wear them--a
flannel waistcoat, a Gladstone collar, a soft silk tie, and a pair of
embroidered carpet slippers upon which no old clothes man in the most
reckless way of business in Petticoat Lane would have advanced a
single halfpenny. Into these he assisted his master to change.
"Now give me the wig, and unfasten the straps of this hump," said
Carne, as the other placed the garments just referred to upon a
neighbouring chair.
Belton did as he was ordered, and then there happened a thing the like
of which no one would have believed. Having unbuckled a strap on
either shoulder, and slipped his hand beneath the waistcoat, he
withdrew a large papier-mache hump, which he carried away and
carefully placed in a drawer of the bureau. Relieved of his burden,
Simon Carne stood up as straight and well-made a man as any in Her
Majesty's dominions. The malformation, for which so many, including
the Earl and Countess of Amberley, had often pitied him, was nothing
but a hoax intended to produce an effect which would permit him
additional facilities of disguise.

The hump discarded, and the grey wig fitted carefully to his head in
such a manner that not even a pinch of his own curlylocks could be
seen beneath it, he adorned his cheeks with a pair of crepu-hair
whiskers, donned the flannel vest and the velvet coat previously
mentioned, slipped his feet into the carpet slippers, placed a pair of
smoked glasses upon his nose, and declared himself ready to proceed
about his business. The man who would have known him for Simon
Carne would have been as astute as, well, shall we say, as the private
detective--Klimo himself.
"It's on the stroke of twelve," he said, as he gave a final glance at
himself in the pier-glass above the dressing-table, and arranged his tie
to his satisfaction. "Should anyone call, instruct Ram Gafur to tell them
that I have gone out on business, and