"Why--er--really--" Mr. Paddock blushed. Modest author, he.
A servant appeared to say that Lord Harrowby was wanted at once outside, and excusing himself, Harrowby departed. He found his valet, a plump, round-faced, serious man, waiting in the shadows on the veranda. For a time they talked together in low tones. When Harrowby returned to the dining-room, his never cheerful face was even gloomier than usual.
Spencer Meyrick and Bruce, exiles both of them, talked joyously of business and the rush of the day's work for which both longed. The New York man and a sapling from Boston conversed of chamber music. Martin Wall sat silent, contemplative. Perhaps had he spoken his thoughts they would have been of a rich jewel shop at noon--deserted.
A half-hour later Mrs. Bruce's dinner-party was scattered among the palms and flowers of her gorgeous lawn. Mr. Minot had fallen again to the elder girl from Omaha, and blithely for her he was displaying his Broadway ignorance of horticulture. Suddenly out of the night came a scream. Instantly when he heard it, Mr. Minot knew who had uttered it.
Unceremoniously he parted from the Omaha beauty and sped over the lawn. But quick as he was, Lord Harrowby was quicker. For when Minot came up, he saw Harrowby bending over Miss Meyrick, who sat upon a wicker bench.
"Cynthia--what is it?" Harrowby was saying.
Cynthia Meyrick felt wildly of her shining hair.
"Your necklace," she gasped. "Chain Lightning's Collar. He took it! He took it!"
"A man!" Reverent repetition by feminine voices out of the excited group.
"He leaped out at me there--by that tree--pinioned my arms--snatched the necklace. I couldn't see his face. It happened in the shadow."
"No matter," Harrowby replied. "Don't give it another thought, my child."
"I shall telephone the police at once," announced Spencer Meyrick.
"I beg you'll do nothing of the sort," expostulated Lord Harrowby. "It would be a great inconvenience--the thing wasn't worth the publicity that would result. I insist that the police be kept out of this."
Argument--loud on Mr. Meyrick's part--ensued. Suggestions galore were offered by the guests. But in the end Lord Harrowby had his way. It was agreed not to call in the police.