Читать книгу The Case of the Two Pearl Necklaces (Musaicum Vintage Mysteries) - Dorothy Fielding - Страница 5

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ON the following evening Violet was playing bridge at Colonel Walsh's house in Grosvenor Square. He was presenting the house to Arthur as a wedding gift, together with a separate fund for its maintenance. Violet was very much to the fore on this occasion. A trifle self-assertive, and more than a trifle dictatorial.

But Arthur looked delighted to be allowed to breathe the same air as his divinity. He played badly. Violet, as always, played extremely well, and won quite a nice little sum from Ann Lovelace and her partner.

Ann handed over a couple of notes with a smile. "Nothing can resist you to-night, Violet. You ought to be at Grayham's," she said a little later, when Violet happened to be alone with her, making up in the cloakroom. Ann stretched out a lovely hand and laid a caressing finger-tip for a second on one of the pearls as they swung towards her at some movement of their wearer's.

"Where's that?" Violet asked.

"He's a man from South Africa. He has a flat close by, and lets a few friends who, like himself, only enjoy high play, drop in for it whenever they feel inclined. Care to have a look in there? We'll slip away for half an hour."

They got their wraps, and sped quietly downstairs.

A word to her chauffeur, and Ann's car drew up at a house of flats in Park Lane. "Grayham," was murmured to the night porter on duty, and they were shown to a lift. Upstairs, on the top floor, their guide rang a certain bell and then disappeared.

The door was opened by a footman who evidently recognised Ann, for he led them down a short, broad corridor and opened a door at the end. The two stepped into a large, closely-curtained room in which chemin de fer and baccarat were in full swing.

There were no introductions. A tall, alert-faced man, rather of the army type, just glanced up, bowed to Ann, and went on dealing. No one else looked up at all.

Ann steered Violet to a small table in a bay window presided over by a very tall, very broad-shouldered, very muscular-looking servant.

"You take as many cardboard counters as you like," she explained lightly. "The man stamps your name on each, for they're as good as notes, and any which you don't use you yourself tear up. It's only the ones you hand over that count as actual money. Those of this colour represent each five pounds; those, ten; those, fifty; those, one hundred. One-pound tokens? Oh, those lilac-coloured? But, of course, they're very seldom used here."

Violet helped herself well. She was feeling rich to-night. She would be married this time next week, and Arthur had had very generous settlements drawn up. She would be a very wealthy woman in a few days now. And, although Arthur's solicitors had stipulated in the settlements that he would not be responsible for any debts incurred by her before their marriage, Violet could smile at the stipulation. He was her abject slave, and he would remain so, she knew.

She glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight as she seated herself at the baccarat table. At first her luck was in. But it deserted her presently. By that time it was three o'clock in the morning, and Ann and she must return. Violet, however, found this easier said than done. Mr. Grayham and a couple of "friends" of his, at least, he called them so, moved incessantly to and fro, entering in their note-books how much each departing visitor owed, or was owed. Paying or receiving, accordingly, as swiftly as bank clerks. Mr. Grayham now came over to Violet, to whom he was introduced by Ann. Smiling genially, he said how much he regretted that Miss Finch's first visit had resulted in a deficit. Just a little matter of only four hundred and seventy-five pounds, however.

"A—a cheque—" Violet said hastily—abruptly. "I'll draw you a cheque for it."

"Delighted," murmured her host. "In this side-room." He held open its door and the three stepped in. Shutting the door behind him, he motioned the two young women to a writing-table and comfortable arm-chairs.

"I'll leave you while you draw it," he murmured. Then he added as in afterthought, "by the way, I hope you don't mind, but as this is your guest's first visit, Miss Lovelace, will you write me a line as sponsor for the cheque? You know our few rules."

"Certainly," Ann replied carelessly, and Mr. Grayham left them.

Ann adjusted the pale pastel flowers that formed one of her shoulder straps, and with which her cloak of silver cloth seemed lined. Violet drew a deep breath as she picked up a pen.

"Of course, I can't guarantee your cheque without any security for it," Ann said smilingly. "But if you're in a tight hole for the moment I'll lend you the money with pleasure."

"Oh, will you?" Violet's tone was effusively grateful.

"Certainly. On the shorter of your two pearl necklaces so gorgeously displayed around your pretty throat. As I helped you choose it, I don't need to have it valued first. Just over a thousand pounds Arthur paid for it, I know. You're a lucky girl, Violet. Well, would you like me to give Gray-ham my cheque instead of drawing one yourself?"

"Oh, thanks ever so!" Violet unfastened the string of lovely pearls in question and stood playing with it, running the pearls fondly through her well-manicured rather thick fingers, while Ann, picking up a pen, drew her cheque for the four hundred and seventy-five pounds. But, as Violet handed the pearls to her, Ann asked her to sit down again for a moment more.

"You must give me a line, you know, to say that the pearls are one of the two strings I saw bought, the Queen Charlotte's pearls,' as they were called by the jeweller; and a further line to say that they are your own property, that you have a perfect right to raise a loan on them, and that you will redeem them within a month after your marriage to Arthur, at latest."

"But surely all that's quite unnecessary between friends, as we are," Violet exclaimed, with a confident smile.

"Absolutely necessary," was the cool and quite definite reply. "To me, at least."

Violet met Ann's firm look and capitulated, though with an inward curse. She wrote the words dictated, signed the paper, handed it and the pearls to Ann, and received in return the cheque; then they stepped back into the other room. Mr. Grayham seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. He left one of his friends to continue paying out notes, and was at their side in a moment. Violet handed him Ann's cheque.

"Miss Finch will settle with me," Ann said lightly. Grayham gave her a receipt, and saw them to the door, all smiles and pleasant speeches.

At eleven next morning, Arthur was told that Miss Lovelace and Miss Walsh had called and would like to see him.

The drawing-room in Grosvenor Square looked very pleasant that sunny morning, but it was unmistakably the drawing-room of a bachelor—or' a widower. Arthur's mother had died at his birth.

"Kitty, what's the matter?" Arthur began, before he was well into the room.

Kitty shook her head. She looked uneasy. "Don't ask me. This is Ann's show. She routed me out this morning and said I must come along. That it was a family matter—a 'Walsh' matter."

Ann Lovelace—dressed in cool-looking muslin and a large, shady black hat—hesitated a moment perceptibly. Her long gloves, matching her bag and shoes, were black, and she stood smoothing them along her slender arms before she spoke.

"It's a very serious matter, I fear," she said at length, hesitantly. "And I hate to speak of it, Arthur. Believe me, I do, indeed, but I can't help myself. It's concerned with Violet Finch."

"Then she ought to be present," Kitty broke in hotly.

Ann silenced her with a look—calm, but authoritative. "Not at all I On the contrary, we must first decide what is best to be done for all sakes. She borrowed close on five hundred pounds from me last night. Oh—" in reply to a quick forward step on Arthur's part. "It's not the money that troubles me I But she asked me to lend it to her on the security of one of those pearl necklaces you had given her. One of the 'Queen Charlotte's' necklaces. I agreed, and suggested the smaller one." She paused.

"Well?" snapped Arthur. His face had flushed deeply. Even the whites of his eyes were suffused.

Kitty was speechless. What was coming? If she knew Ann—and she did—it would be something very clever—and very unpleasant for Violet Finch. For that Ann Lovelace was no friend of Arthur's fiance, Kitty was convinced.

With great deliberation Ann undid her black shopping bag with its chased silver mount to let her slender, coral-nailed fingers extract a string of pearls and a sheet of note-paper. "Here is what she wrote, assuring me that these pearls are her own property, and that she has therefore a perfect right to raise a loan on them. Well, by merest chance, as it happens, I heard this morning that the pearls are not at all Violet's as yet. That they are only to become her own on her wedding day; and that even then they are to be family heirlooms. Which means, of course, that she had absolutely no right whatever to pledge them to me for the requested loan."

"I will make that pledge good," Arthur declared instantly and stiffly; and Kitty could have clapped him on the shoulder for the championship, for his deep and loyal anger at the aspersion against Violet.

"Yes, I don't doubt that you would," Ann said gently. "But I don't see how we're going to get around a startling difficulty in the way. These pearls aren't real. This is a necklace of imitation pearls."

"Nonsense!" Arthur exclaimed rudely, furiously, while Kitty caught her breath in, aghast.

Violet had certainly had no shadow of right to allege—as she had in that paper; it lay on the table and Kitty was reading it—that she owned the pearls; but that was as nothing to this dreadful rider. In a few days the pearls given to Violet provisionally were to be truly her own, as Arthur's wedding gift, although to be held as an heirloom. But if there were any reality in Ann's accusation—!

"You're talking nonsense, and spiteful nonsense!" Arthur went on still more roughly. "Of course these are the pearls I bought as part of my wedding gift."

He reached out to seize them, but in a twinkling Ann had slipped the string over her head and down inside her frock. She had on an ostrich-feather boa, and it covered the clasp.

"It's a lie!" Arthur exclaimed with clenching teeth, looking as though he could have struck Violet's accuser.

"Arthur!" Ann said quietly, "I think you're growing a bit Finchy yourself. I don't tell lies, nor cheat, nor steal. For that so-called 'loan' was stolen from me. I've asked Violet to meet me here without fail; and, as I hear some car driving up in a great hurry, it's probably hers. Oh, I haven't any wish to take her character away behind her back!" she finished with an open sneer. "I tried to get the Colonel here, too but he couldn't come."

The rage in Arthur's face again did Kitty good to see. But its occasion was tragic. If Ann's charge had any foundation...I Could it possibly have any? Ann was a serpent...Guile was her positive genius...

Quick and not overlight feet could now be heard coming up the stairs, and Violet was shown in. Was it that Kitty's eye was distorted by the previous scene? Or did Violet usually dress with greater care? Look less—well, yes, less common?

"What's it all about?" Violet demanded, as she entered, her colour mounting and then paling sickeningly as she saw Ann Lovelace. Kitty did not like that whitening face.

"Miss Finch, you got me to lend you close on five hundred pounds on a sham security," Ann said clearly and haughtily. "These aren't pearls at all. They're wax beads."

Kitty gave a sort of cry at this, and snatched in her turn at the string around Ann's neck which the wearer was touching scornfully.

"You liar! Or you've changed them!" Violet said hoarsely. And, as she heard her, a great relief came to Kitty. Of course! Ann had dug a pit, and was now about to fall into it herself. Kitty had never before known Ann to go anything like as far as this. But, given sufficient motive—and cover—there was nothing sinister of which she believed her incapable.

"Ah!" came from Arthur. And his tone of relief told Kitty how similarly he had been feeling. "Ah, I might have thought of that—"

"Instead of believing her lies against me!" stormed Violet.

"I didn't believe them, darling," he said swiftly. "But neither did I dream of such an explanation."

"Not being an absolute fool, you didn't," Ann interrupted, for hate was rising above dignified coolness. "How could I have had pearls copied which were not in my possession? If you weigh this string and the real one—if you even lay them side by side—you'll find them apparently identical. I've been to Rinks' this morning with that string, and they looked up their books."

Here Violet grew abusive, shrilling out her version of the affair. On Ann's insistence she had handed her the real pearls last night and regretted it bitterly enough at the time. She clutched Arthur's arm and assured him that she would never, never, never touch a gambling card again. She shrieked at Ann's perfidy in having taken her to a private gambling place for her own ends.

Kitty had never admired Arthur so much as now. It was both pain and pleasure to see how his hand covered Violet's, how he held her close, how he soothed and tried to quiet her hysterical rage.

And in the end Ann was beaten. Kitty had never hoped for this. But Arthur refused to listen to her, and as Ann, forgetting other things for the moment, leant far forward to assure Arthur that he was making the mistake of his life in not believing her, the beads swung free from her hands, and in a second, with a swiftness and a force that delighted Kitty, though it startled her, Violet had grabbed them, tugged the string in two, though it was strongly knotted between each pearl, and thrust them into the little silk handbag that she clutched tightly under her arm.

For a second Kitty thought Ann would actually spring at the other girl. But her self-control held. Instead, she gave Violet a look of such real and utter contempt that Kitty's faith wavered, gave Arthur its mate, and then, head high, would have left the room had not Arthur placed himself with his back to the door to prevent it.

"No, you can't leave like that, Ann," he said, and spoke in measured tones. "Not until you fully realise that if one word of these false accusations of yours get about I shall bring an action for libel—or rather my wife will."

Ann looked about her for the paper that had lain on the table. It, too, was gone—into Arthur Walsh's pocket!

"You have no proofs!" His flaming eyes burnt out of his deeply-flushed face as he spoke. He was in a rage of which Kitty had never thought him capable.

"Here is my cheque for your loan. I insist on your taking it. Violet regrets the whole transaction deeply. That, instead of coming to me, she borrowed from you. But your tale about her having got the loan from you on imitation pearls—" His teeth clicked together audibly. The muscles on his cheeks bulged for a second. Again Kitty felt that the natural man would have liked to hit out at Ann, standing quite composedly, though very white, before him.

For a second they stood face to face, then she made a gesture with her hand, motioning him to step out of her way. But he held his ground.

"I must have your promise, Ann, to keep absolute silence about this whole scene and affair," he persisted. "You thought you could disgrace Violet. You planned it all with devilish cleverness. But it won't work. I believe she speaks the truth, and I don't believe that you do, about the whole miserable matter."

"Yet you carefully pocket the paper she signed?" Ann's voice was contemptuous.

He nodded.

"And she broke and pocketed the string of alleged pearls!"

For a second Ann's self-control shook again, but she said no more, only stood a moment with head bent. Then she raised it to add quietly:

"I thought you were making a dreadful mistake. But it seems that it was I who made one. I see now that you and Miss Finch are well matched. As for your cheque repaying me, I accept it. I have no intention whatever—though she had—of making your fiance a present of my loan."

Her tone was steel. Then she stopped herself and with a final gesture of utter scorn for both, passed through the door which he now held open for her departure.

"Darling!" Violet flung her arms around Arthur's neck. "My own darling! That hateful creature! What awful lies! Oh, take me away, where I shall never meet her again!"

"My own Violet!" Arthur said tenderly. "I'll take you home at once. Forget the whole spiteful fiasco! But what about you, Kit? Will you come, too?"

Kitty, however, promptly said she needed a walk. And she did. A silent, almost forgotten spectator of the drama, she felt her brain spinning as she recalled it. What would her uncle do? Would he try to stop the marriage by cutting off Arthur's hugely increased marriage allowance and revoking his gift of the capital involved? As well as that of the Town house? Kitty wondered sadly if a struggle were coming between the Colonel and this his second and only surviving son? For Arthur would not give Violet up—of that Kitty now felt sure. But what would her uncle's attitude be? He was a broad-minded man, with but one detestation—personal deceit, and especially of a lie to him. That had cost him Gerald. Was it now—through Violet Finch—to cost him Arthur? For Violet had set it down in black and white that the pledged pearls were her actual property...

Kitty thought that Violet might have considered that a very trifling inaccuracy; but to her uncle there was no such thing as a "trifling" untruth. And, apart from that, even for Violet Finch it was surely no mere inaccuracy to say that wax imitations were real pearls, and to borrow a considerable sum of money on them...Kitty felt that she must get some clear idea of what had really happened. She could not discuss it with her uncle. Arthur might, but Kitty carried no guns that could cope with her uncle's. Then she bethought herself of Ambrose Walsh, her cousin and Arthur's.

Ambrose Walsh was a priest. He was only a little older than Arthur himself, but brilliant, even as a boy. You never could deceive Ambrose in the old days; and he was hardly likely to have grown less clear-sighted with the years. He was home, from a leper station, on sick leave, which he was using to write a book. His few books were by way of being literary landmarks.

Kitty had always liked Ambrose. Fearless, honest, by character he might have been Colonel Walsh's son instead of his nephew. She would try for an interview with him in private. She had better telephone first and find out if he could see her. For Father Walsh was an important person. The lay brother who answered the telephone asked her name. He told her that Father Walsh was engaged for the moment and had an appointment for the next hour, but if Miss Walsh could come then...? Kitty could and would. She felt chilled at the thought of even the hour's delay, and half regretted the impulse that had made her ring her cousin up. But, having done so, she must keep the appointment.