Читать книгу The Broken O - Carolyn Wells - Страница 7

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But Perilla was a most just little person, and she was all the more sweet and kindly lest she be misjudging her guest.

"What did Corey give you for a wedding gift?" asked Miss Linton.

Now the bride had her husband's present in a small chamois bag hung round her neck, but though she raised her hand to draw it forth, the familiar use of Corey's name struck her unpleasantly, and she moved her hand away.

"Oh, show it to me," Miss Linton urged. "I won't tell the reporters."

They laughed together, and, in her ebullience of pride, Perilla pulled at the ribbon and brought out the little bag.

"It's magnificent!" exclaimed the guest, "altogether too big and gorgeous for a kid like you."

"Corey says I'll grow up to it," and Perilla pouted a little.

"Of course you will, baby. Did you get any other pretties?"

"Lots of them. But I didn't bring them with me. I brought this to show to—to Mrs. Malden."

"Can't quite manage the 'mother' yet, can you? Well, I want you to go for a little drive with me. I want to pick out a little gift for Corey's wife and I want you to help me select it. Are you all ready?"

"But you go with me. Our car is waiting, and I'm just starting out, anyway. Just, wait till I call my maid." Perilla stepped into the little booth to telephone, and called Sarah, but had no reply.

"I can't get her," she said, turning back into her sitting room, "but that means she's on the way here from her room—"

She found herself talking to empty air. There was no Connie Linton in the room, no sign of anybody, and—no sign of the too gorgeous diamond necklace. Perilla picked up the house telephone and asked for the manager.

He was prompt to respond. To him she said, "Please come to me at once, yourself, and also the house detective. Say nothing, but hurry."

In less time than seemed possible, both men were at her door. She quickly told her story. The detective, whose name was Donovan, left the room hurriedly. The manager asked her several quick questions, then sent for her husband.

Corey Malden came quickly, took Perilla in his arms, saying, "It's all right, dear, don't worry," and then turned to the manager.

"Mr. Hardwicke," he said, "how could anyone gain access to this suite without being announced?"

"That is one of the greatest troubles we have to meet, sir. It can only be done by carefully connived trickery. It must be that the woman made her way in, somehow, cleverly, and went boldly to Mrs. Malden's door. Probably the intruder knew the lady was here alone, which further proves carefully laid plans. No doubt there was an accomplice, and possibly one of our own employees was mixed up in it. The booty was of great value, I understand."

"Yes, but that is not so much to the point as that my wife was disturbed and troubled. So far, I cannot see that your people were to blame; a clever thief can almost always gain entrance to a hotel."

Hardwicke looked relieved, but still anxious. "Shall I leave you now, Mr. Malden? Will you see me later?"

"Yes, if you please," and Corey marvelled at the insight of the man.

"But where's Sarah?" said Perilla, who looked troubled but not frightened now that Corey was with her again.

"Here I am," said Sarah herself, as she came to the door accompanied by one of the detective's men. "I'm all right, now."

"You go with Mr. Hardwicke, Sarah," said Corey, "and tell him your story, and then come back here to us."

"Now, darling," he said when they were alone, "tell me every word, just exactly as it happened. Don't be afraid—spill it all."

"Well," Perilla began, "first of all, I disobeyed your orders—"

"That will do! Never use obey or orders to me, now that the marriage service is over. You mean, you forgot my request that you shouldn't open the outside door of the suite when you were alone."

"Yes; and that's just what I did do. And there stood an attractive lady who said she brought me a message from your mother."

"Clever work! And, of course, you couldn't resist that; nobody could. Well, go on, tell me every single bit."

So Perilla, now snug and safe in Corey's arms, told the tale exactly as she remembered it.

"Fine," he commented. "You did a fine job. Now, put the whole matter out of your mind. I'll have every effort made to find the thing, and if it's found, so much the better. If not, we'll pick out another like it, or different, as you prefer. All the diamond necklaces in the world, or at least as many of them as you want, shall never stand in the way of my little girl and her happiness."

"And wasn't she your friend, Corey?"

"I don't think so. I had a friend named Connie Linton, but this wrongdoer merely borrowed her name for the occasion. But forget it now. I'll ring for Sarah, and then I must do a little more important dictation."

Sarah came. It seemed that some man in what looked like hotel livery had knocked at her door, saying he brought a message from Mrs. Malden for her not to go to her until after fifteen minutes had passed. He said Mrs. Malden had a caller.

Sarah thought nothing strange of this and wandered round the corridors.

"It's all right, Sarah, you were in no way to blame," Malden said, after some questioning. "Now, get Mrs. Malden ready to go to the tea, and I'll be back shortly."

The Carmlchael tea, as the Maldens had supposed, turned out to be a cocktail party, and Perilla was feted and flattered until a less steady head than hers would have been turned. Hurrying back to the hotel, they dressed, and started for the Carletons' dinner.

"You'll like the people, dear," Corey said. "Dick Carleton is salt of the earth."

"How you do love your friends, Corey. It's a nice trait. I think. Do they all love you as much?"

"Probably not. Carmichael is a good one, and Gaskell, as you know."

The Carleton dinner dance was of an elaborate type, and Perilla thoroughly enjoyed it. She loved dancing and she loved fine houses and elaborate appointments, and on this trip she was so flattered and belauded that it rather went to her head. She had experienced all the triumphs of bellehood, but this was different, and somewhat intoxicating.

Yet the depth and power of Corey's love, was still more exhilarating, and she longed for the time when they would have their own home and go and come as they chose.

"Do come and live in Washington," a rather uninteresting partner was saying to her as they danced.

"Now how can you think I would do that?" she laughed. "Don't you know I am a New Yorker, born and bred? Do you think I'd change my home town?"

"Richmond isn't home. I understand you're going to live there, in the old Malden house."

"Oh, no, we're not going to do that," she cried, and then, fearing she was saying too much, added, "At least, not at present."

"Why don't you," he followed up, "unless, that is, you can't stand the old lady?"

"If you refer to my husband's mother, please do not speak of her in that way. I have never met Mrs. Malden, but I already love her and deeply respect her."

"Oh, you do! Well, you'll get over that."

Perilla looked round the room, and saw Corey. "There is my husband. Will you be good enough to take me to him?"

"I will not," said the daring young man. "Come on, this is our dance."

"You are mistaken," said Perilla, gaily, for she saw her host approaching. "Oh, Mr. Carleton, won't you take me to Corey, please! I've had an awfully strenuous day, and we have a long ride for to-morrow."

Dick Carleton caught the serious note in her voice, and obeyed her at once.

"I'm very tired," she said, reaching Malden, "may I go home now?"

"Yes, dear," he said gently. "Let us slip away. Dick, my girl is really overdoing this society racket."

"Of course, then. I'll send my wife to you."

"Oh, don't trouble her," said Perilla, "she is busy with her guests. When we come back from Richmond I'll call, if I may."

And that's how it came about that Corey Malden and his wife went home early from the Carleton dinner dance.

Once in their car, she told Corey all the dreadful things the horrid man had said to her about his mother.

To her surprise, he looked grave and said, "I want to tell you about her myself, I've been putting it off from sheer cowardice."

Perilla stared, but just then they reached the hotel. In their living room he drew her down beside him on an old tete-a-tete love seat, and took her in his arms.

"Darling," he said, in a pained voice, "'you won't like mother."

"Not like your mother! Indeed I shall! Why not?"

"She isn't lovable. I don't want to tell you this, but I have to. I wish I had told you sooner."

"Stop it, Corey, whatever it is! I don't care what your mother is, to me she will always be the dearest woman on earth—with my own mother."

Corey rose, then he drew her up beside him. Without a word he put his arms round her, yet, even as he did so, she felt him slip, droop, and his body, relaxing, fell slowly to the floor.

"Corey, darling, what is it?" she cried. She leaned down, bent over him, but he gave no sound, no glance, and more by intuition than reason, Perilla whispered to herself, "He is dead!"