Speaker 1: The Great Valdez Sapphire by anonymous. I know more about
it than any one else in the world, its present
owner not accepted. I can give its whole history, from
the Singalese who found it, the Spanish adventurer who stole it,
the cardinal who bought it, the Pope who graciously accepted it,
the favorite son of the church who received it, the
gay and giddy duchess who pawned it down to the
eminent prelate who now holds it in trust as a
family heirloom. It will occupy a chapter to itself in
my forthcoming work on historic stones, where full details of
its weight, size, collar and value may be found. At present,
I am going to relate an incident in its history,
which for obvious reasons will not be published, which in
fact I trust the reader will consider related in strict confidence.
I had never seen the stone itself when I began
to write about it, and it was not till one
evening last spring, while staying with my nephew, Sir Thomas Acton,
that I came within measurable distance of it. A dinner
party was impending, and at my instigation, the Bishop of
North Church and Miss Panton his daughter and heiress were
among the invited guests. The dinner was a particularly good one,
I remember that distinctly. In fact, I felt myself partly
responsible for it. Having engaged the new cook, a talented
young Italian pupil of the admirable old chef at my club,
we had gone over the menu carefully together, with a
result refreshing in its novelty, but not so daring as
to disturb the minds of the innocent country guests who
were bidden there too. The first spoonful of soup was reassuring,
and I looked to the end of the table to
exchange a congratulatory glance with Leta. What was a miss
no response. Her pretty face was flushed, her smile constrained.
She was talking with quite unnecessary impressment to her neighbor,
Sir harry Lander. Though Leta is one of those few
women who understand the importance of letting a man settle
down tranquility and with an undisturbed mind to the business
of dining, allowing no topic of serious interest to come
on before the relevay, and reserving more conversational brilliancy for
the entremets guests. All right, no disappointments. I had gone
through the list with her, selecting just the right people
to be asked to meet the landers or new neighbors.
Not a mere cumber's country gathering, nor yet a showy
imported party from town, but a skillful blending of both.
Had anything happened already, I had been late for dinner
and missed the arrivals in the drawing room. It was
Lida's fault. She has got a way of coming into
my room and put the last touches to my toilette.
I let her, for I am doubtful of myself nowadays,
after many years dependence on the best of valets, her
taste is generally beyond dispute. But to day she had
indulged in a feminine vaggary, which provoked me and made
me late for dinner. Are you going to wear your sapphire,
uncle Paul, She cried in a tone of dismay. Oh,
why not the ruby? You would have your way about
the table decorations, I gently reminded her. With that service
of crown derby raps and orchids, the ruby would look
absolutely barbaric. Now if you would have had the images
set white candles and a yellow silk center. Oh, but
I am so disappointed. I wanted the bishop to see
your ruby, or one of your engraved gems. My dear,
it is on the Bishop's account I put this on.
You know, his daughter is heiress of the great Valdez sapphire.
Of course she is. And when he had as the
charge of a stone three times as big as yours,
what's the use of wearing it? The ruby? Dear Uncle Paul, Please,
she was desperately in earnest I could see, and considering
the obligations which I am supposed to be under to
her and Tom, it was but a little matter to yield.
But it involved a good deal of extra trouble. Studs,
slave links, WatchGuard, all carefully selected to go with the sapphire,
had to be changed the emerald, which I chose as
a compromise, requiring more florid accompaniments of a deeper tone
of gold. And the dinner hour struck. As I replaced
my jewel case, the one relic left me of a
once handsome fortune in my fireproof safe. The emerald looked
very well that evening, however, I kept my eyes upon
it for comfort. When Miss Panton proved trying. She was
a lean, yellow, dictatorial young person with no conversation. I
spoke of her father's celebrated sapphires, My sapphires. She amended sourly,
though I am legally debarred from making any profitable use
of them. She furthermore informed me that she viewed them
as useless gods which ought to be disposed of for
the benefit of the heathen. I gave the subject up,
and while she discoursed on the work of the Blue
Ribbon Army among the Bosja's men's, I tried to understand
a certain dislocation in the arrangement of the table. Surely
we were more or less in number than we should
be opposite side, all right? Who was extra on ours?
I leaned forward, Lady Landore on one side, of Tom
on the other. Who I caught glimpses of plumes pink
and green, nodding over a dinner plate, and beneath them
a pink nose in a green visage with a nutcracker chin,
altogether unknown to me a sharp gray. I shot a
wide glance down the table and caught me peeping, and
I retreated, having only marked in addition, two clawlike hands
with pointed ruffles and a mass of brilliant rings, making
good play with a knife and fork. Who was she?
At intervals, a high acid voice could be heard addressing Tom,
and a laugh that made me shudder. It had the
quality of the scream of a bird of prey or
the yell of a jackal. I had heard that sort
of laugh before, and it always made me feel like
a defenseless rabbage. Every time it sounded, I saw Leta's
fan flutter more furiously, and her manner grow more nervously animated,
Poor dear girl, I never in all my recollection wished
a dinner at an end so earnestly, so as to
assure her of my support and sympathy, though without the
faintest conception why either should be required the ices. At last,
a menu card folded in two was laid beside me.
I read it on A keep the bee from joining
us in the drawing room. The bee the bishop, of course,
with pleasure. But why and how? That's the question, never mind?
Why could I lure him into the library, the billiard room,
the conservatory. I doubted it, and I doubted still more
what I should do with him? When I got him there.
The bishop is a grand and stately ecclesiastic of the
medieval type, broad chested, deep voiced marshal of bearing. I
could picture him charging mason hand at the head of
his vassals, or delivering over a dissenter of the period
to the rack and thumbscrew, but not pottering among rare additions,
tall copies and grolier bindings, not condescending to a quiet
cigar among the tree ferns and orchids. Elta must and
should be obeyed, I swore, nevertheless, even if I were
driven to lock the door in the fearless old fashion
of a bygone day and declare, I'd choot any man
who left, while a drop remained in the bottles. The
ladies were rising. The lady at the head of the
line smirked and knotted her pink plumes coquettishly at Tom,
while her hawk's eyes roved keen and predatory over us all.
She stopped, suddenly, creating a block and confusion. Ah, the
dear Bishop, you there, and I never saw you. You
must come and have a nice long chat. Presently, bye bye.
She shook her fan at him over my shoulder and
tripped off leta passing me last, gave a look of
profound despair. Lady Cartwiget, somebody exclaimed, I couldn't believe my eyes.
Thought she was dead or in penal servitude. Never should
have expected to see her here, said some one else
behind me, confidentially, what Cartwiget not the mum of the
cartwich It who just so? The cartwich it who Tom
assented with a shrug. We needn't go farther, as she's
my guest, just my luck. I met them at Buxton,
saw them uncommonly good company, in fact, cart which it
laid me under a great obligation about a horse I
was nearly let in for buying, and gave them a
general invitation here as one does you know, never expected
her to turn up with her luggage this afternoon, just
before dinner, to stay a week or a fortnight of
cart which it can join her. A groan of sympathy
ran round the table. It can't be helped. I told
you this just to show that I shouldn't have asked
you here to meet this sort of people of my
own free will. But as it is, please say no
more about them. The subject was not dropped by any means,
and I took care that it should not be at
our end of the table. One story after another went
buzzing round. Sought a vos out of deference to Tom,
but perfectly audible cartwitchet Ah, Yes, mixed up in that
Rawlings divorce case. Wasn't he a bad lot? Turned out
of the dragoon guards for cheating at cards or picking
pockets or something. Remember the row at the Seruleian Club,
scandalous exposure, and that forged letter business. Oh that was
the mother prosecution hushed up somehow ought to be serving
her fourteen years, and that business of poor ferrers. The
banker got hold of some of his secrets and blackmailed
him till he blew his brains out. It was so
exciting that I clean forgot the bishop till a low gasp,
But my elbow startled me. He was lying back in
his chair, his mighty shaven jowl a ghastly white, his fierce,
imperious eyebrows drooping limp over his fish like eyes. His
splendid figure shrunk and contracted. He was trying with a
shaken hand to pour out wine. The decanter clattered against
the glass, and the wine spilled on a cloth. I'm
afraid did you find the room too warm? Shall we
go into the library. He rose hastily and followed me
like a lamb. He recovered himself once we got into
the hall, and affably rejected all my proffers of brandy
and soda, medical advice, everything else my limited experience could suggest.
He only demanded his carriage directly, and that Miss Panton
should be summoned forthwith. I made the best use I
could of the time left me. I'm uncommonly sorry you
do not feel equal to staying a little longer, my lord.
I counted on showing you my few trifles of precious stones,
the savage from the wreck of my possessions, nothing in
comparison with your own collection. The Bishop clasped his hand
over his heart. His breath came short and quick, A
return of that dizziness, he explained, with a faint smile.
You are thinking of the valds Sapphire, are you not?
Some day, he went on, with forced composure, I may
have the pleasure of showing it to you. It is
at my banker's just now. Miss Panton's steps were heard
in the hall. You are well known as a connoisseur
mister Acton, he went on, hurriedly, is your collection valuable?
If so, keep it safe. Don't trust a ring off
your hand or the key of your jewel case out
of your pocket till the house is clear again. The
words rushed from his lips in an impetuous whisper. He
gave me a meaning glance and departed with his daughter.
I went back to the drawing room, my head swimming
with bewilderment. What that dear bishop gone? Screamed Lady Cartwitchet
from the central Autumn, where she sat, surrounded by most
of the gentlemen, all apparently well entertained by her conversation.
And I wanted to talk over old times with him
so badly. His poor wife was my greatest friend, Miramont Arrow,
daughter of the great banker. You know it's not possible
that the miserable little prig is my poor Mira's girl,
the heiress of all the Monteneros, in a black lace
gown worth two pens. When I think of her mother's
beauty and her toilets? Does she ever wear the Sapphires?
Has any one ever seen her in them? Eleven large
stones in a lovely antique setting, and the great Valdez sapphire,
worth thousands and thousands For the pendant, no one replied,
I wanted to get a rise out of the Bishop
to night. It used to make him so mad when
I wore this. She fumbled among the laces at her
throat and clawed out a pendant that hung to a
velvet band around her neck. I fairly gasped when she
removed her hand. A sapphire of irregular shape flashed out,
its blue lightning on us. Such a stone, a true,
rich cornflower blue, even by that wretched artificial light, with
soft velvety depths of color and dazzling clearness of tint
in its lights and shades, A stone to remember. I
stretched out my hand involuntarily, But Lady Cartwich, it drew
back with a coquettish squial. No, no, you mustn't look
any closer. Tell me what you think of it now?
Isn't it pretty? Superb? Was all I could ejaculate, staring
at the azure splendor of that miraculous jewel. In a
sort of trance, she gave a shrill, cackling laugh of mockery.
The great mister Acton, taken in by a bit of
pilais royal gimcrackery. What an advertisement for Bogart at Sea.
They are perfect artists and frods. Don't you remember their
stand at the first Paris Exhibition. They had imitations there
of every celebrated stone. But I never expected anything made
by man could delude mister Acton. Never, And she went
off into another mocking cackle, and all the idiots round
her hall hauled knowingly, as if they had seen the
joke all along. I was too bewildered to reply, which
was lucky on the whole. I suppose. I mustn't tell
why I came to give quite a big sum in
Franks for this. She went on, tapping her closed lips
with her closed fan and cocking her eye at us,
all like a parrot wanting to be coaxed to talk.
It's a queer story. I didn't want to hear her anecdote,
especially as I saw she wanted to tell it. What
I did want was to see that pendant again. She
had thrust it back among her laces, only the loop
which held it to the velvet being visible. It was
set with three small sapphires, and even from a distance
I clearly made them out to be imitations and poor ones.
I felt a queer thrill of mistrust. Was the large
stone no better could I, even for an instant, have
been dazzled by a sham, and a sham of that quality.
The events of the evening had flurried, confused me. I
wished to think them over and quiet. I would go
to bed. My rooms at the Manor are the best
in the house. Lita would have it, so I must
explain their position for a reason to be understood later.
My bedroom is in the southeast angle of the house.
It opens on one side into a sitting room in
the east corridor, the rest of which is taken up
by the suit of rooms occupied by Tom and Lita,
and on the other side into my bathroom, the first
room in the south corridor, where the principal guest chambers
are to one of which it was originally the dressing room.
Passing this room, I noticed a couple of housemaids preparing
it for the night, and discovered with a shiver that
Lady Cartwich it was to be my next door neighbor.
It gave me a turn. The Bishop's strange warning must
have unnerved me. I was perfectly safe from her ladyship.
The disused door into her room was locked and the
key safe on the housekeeper's bunch. It was also undiscoverable
on her side, the recess in which it stood being
completely filled by a large wardrobe. On my side hung
a thick sound proof porteriere. Nevertheless, I resolved not to
use that room while she inhabited the next one. I
removed my possessions, fastened the door of communication with my bedroom,
and dragged a heavy ottoman across it. Then I stowed
away my emerald in my strong box. It is built
into the wall of my sitting room and masked by
the lower part of an old carved oak bureau. I
put away even the rings I wore, habitually, keeping out
only an inferior cat's eye for work a day ware.
I had just made all safe when Leta tapped at
the door and came in to wish me good night.
She looked flushed in harassed, and ready to cry. Uncle Paul.
She began, I want you to go up to town
at once and stay away till I send for you,
my dear. I was too amazed to expostulate. We've got
a a pestilence among us. She declared, her foot tapping
the ground angrily. And the least we can do is
to go into quarantine. Oh, I'm so sorry and so
ashamed the poor bishop. I'll take good care that no
one else shall meet that woman here. You did your
best for me, Uncle Paul, and manage admirably, but it
was all no use. I hoped, against hope that was
between the dusk of the drawing room before dinner, and
being put at opposite ends of the table, we might
get through without a meeting. But my dear explain, why
shouldn't the Bishop and Lady Cartwrichard meet? Why is it
worse for him than any one else? Why? I thought
everybody had heard of that dreadful wife of his, who
nearly broke his heart. If he married her for her money,
it served him right. But Lady Lander says she was
very handsome and really in love with him at first.
And then lady cartwhich it got hold of her and
led her into all sorts of mischief. She left her husband,
he was only a rector the country living in those days,
and went to live in town, got into a horrid
fast set and made herself notorious. You must have heard
of her. I heard of her sapphires, my dear, but
I was in Brazil at the time. I wish you
had been at home, you might have found her out.
She was furious because her husband refused to let her
wear the great Maldez sapphire. It had been in the
Montenero family for some generations, and her father settled it
first on her and then on her little girl. The Bishop,
being trustee, he felt obliged to take away the little
girl and send her off to be brought up by
some old aunts in the country, and he locked up
the sapphire lady cart which it tells as a splendid joke.
How they got the copy made in Paris, and it
did just as well for the people to stare at.
No wonder, the bishop hates the very name of the stone.
How long will she stay here, I asked, dismally, till
Lord Carte which it can come and escort her to
Paris to visit some American friends. Goodness knows when that
will be. Do go up to town, Uncle Paul, I
refused indignantly. The very least I could do was to
stand by my poor young relatives in their troubles and
help them through. I did so I wore that inferior
cat's eye for six weeks. It is a time I
cannot think of even now without a shudder. The more
I saw of that terrible old woman, the more I
detested her, and we saw a very great deal of her.
Leta kept her word and neither accepted nor gave invitations.
All that time we were cut off from all society
but that of the old General Fairford, who would go
anywhere and meet any one to get a rubber after dinner.
The Doctor, a sporting widower, and the Duberles, a giddy,
rather rackety young couple who had taken the dower house
for a year. Lady Cartwich, it seemed perfectly content. She
reveled in the soft living, in good fare of the
manor house, the drives in Lita's big baroche, and Dominico's dinners.
As one to whom short commons were not unknown, she
had a hungry way of grabbing and grasping at everything
she could. The shillings she wanted whist, the best fruit
at dessert, the postage stamps in the library inkstand. That
was infinitely suggestive. Sometimes I could have pitied her. She
was so greedy, so spiteful, so friendless. She always made
me think of some wicked old pirate putting into a
peaceful port to provision and repair his battered old hulk,
obliged to live on friendly terms with the natives, but
his piratical old nostrils a sniff for plunder, and his
piratical old soul longing to be off morrating once more.
When would that be? Not till the arrival in Paris
of her distinguished American friends, of whom we heard a
great deal charming people, the Buckhams of Chicago, the American
branch of the English Botamps. You know, they seemed to
be taking an unconsciable time to get there. She would
have insisted on being driven over to North Church to
call the palace, but that the bishop was understood to
be holding confirmations at the other end of the diocese.
I was alone in the house one afternoon, sitting by
my window, toying with the key of my safe and
wondering whether I dare treat myself to a peep at
my treasures, when a suspicious movement in the park below
caught my attention. A black figure certainly dodged from behind
one tree to the next, and then into the shadow
of the park, paling instead of keeping to the footpath.
It looked queer. I caught up my field glass and
marked him at one point where he was bound to
come into the open for a few steps. He crossed
the strip of turf with giant strides and got into
cover again, but not quick enough to prevent my recognizing him.
It was great Heavens, the bishop in a soft hat
over his forehead, with a long cloak and a big stick.
He looked like a poacher. Guided by some mysterious instinct,
I hurried to meet him. I opened the conservatory door,
and in he rushed, like a hunted rabbit. Without explanation,
I let him up the white staircase to my room,
where he dropped into a chair and wiped his face.
You are astonished, mister Acton, he panted. I will explain directly. Thanks.
He tossed off the glass of brandy I had poured
out without waiting for the qualifying soda, and looked better.
I am in serious trouble. You can help me. I've
had a shock to day, a grievous shock. He stopped
and tried to pull himself together. I must trust you implicitly,
mister Acton, I have no choice. Tell me what you
think of this. He drew a case from his breast
pocket and opened it. I promised you should see the
Valdes sapphire. Look there, the valds sapphire, A great, big,
shining lump of blue crystal, flawless and of perfect color.
That was all. I took it up, breathed on it,
drew out my magnifier, looked at it in one light
and another. What was wrong with it? I could not say.
Nine experts out of ten would undoubtedly have pronounced the
stone genuine. I, by virtue of some mysterious instincts that
has hitherto always guided me. Aright, was the unlucky tenth?
I looked at the bishop. His eyes met mine. There
was no need of spoken word between us. Has Lady
cart which it shown you her sapphire? Was his most
unexpected question? She has now, mister Acton, on your honor,
as a connoisseur and a gentleman, which of the t
is the Valdez not this one? I could say naught else.
You were my last hope. He broke off and dropped
his face on his folded arms. With a groan that
shook the table on which he rested while I stood
dismayed it myself for having let so hasty a judgment
escape me. He lifted a ghastly countenance to me. She
vowed she would see me ruined and disgraced. I made
her my enemy by crossing some of her schemes once,
and she never forgives. She will keep her word. I
shall appear before the world as a fraudulent trustee. I
can neither produce the valuable confined to my charge nor
make the loss good. I have only an incredible story
to tell. He dropped his head and groaned again. Who
will believe me? I will for one Ah, you, yes,
you know her. She took my wife from me, Miss Acting.
Heaven only knows what the hold was that she had
over poor Myra. She encouraged her to set me at
defiance and eventually to leave me. She was answerable for
all the scandalous, folly and extravagance of poor Myra's life
in Paris. Spare me the telling of the story. She
left her at last to die alone and uncared for.
I reached my wife to find her dying of a
fever from which Lady Cartwitchet and her crew had fled.
She was raving in delirium and died without recognizing me.
Some trouble she had been in, which I must never know,
oppressed her. At the very last she roused from a
long stupor and spoke to the nurse, tell him to
get this happhire back. She stole it. She has robbed
my child. Those were her last words. The nurse understood
no English and treated them as wondering. But I heard
them and knew she was sane when she spoke. Did
you do? What could I do? I saw lady Cartridget,
who laughed at me and defied me. To make her
confess or disgorge, I took the pendant to more than
one eminent jeweler, on pretense of having the setting scene too,
and all have examined and admired, without giving a hint
of there being anything wrong. I allowed a celebrated mineralogist
to see it. He gave no sign. Perhaps they are
right and we are wrong. No, no, listen. I heard
of an old Dutchman, celebrated for his imitations. I went
to him, and he told me at once that he
had been allowed by Montenero to copy the Valdez setting,
and all for the Paris exhibition. I showed him this,
and he claimed it for his own work at once,
and pointed out his private mark upon it. You must
take your magnifier to find it a Greek beta. He
told me that he had sold it to Lady Cartwich
it more than a year ago. It is a terrible position.
It is my co trustee died lately. I have never
dared to have another appointed. I am bound to hand
over the sapphire to my daughter on her marriage, if
her husband consents to take the name of Montenero. The
bishop's face was ghastly pale, and the moisture started on
his brow. I racked my brain for some word of comforts.
Miss Panton may never marry, but she will, he shouted.
That is the blow that has been dealt me to day.
My chaplain, actually, my chaplain tells me that he is
going out as a temperance missionary to Equatorial Africa, and
has the assurance to add that he believes my daughter
is not indisposed to accompany him. His consummating wrath acted
as a momentary stimulant. He sat upright, his eyes flashing
in his Brow's thunderous I felt for that chaplain. Then
he collapsed miserably. The sapphires will have to be produced, identified, revalued.
How shall I come out of it? Think of the disgrace,
the ripping up of old scandals. Even if I were
to compound with Lady Cartridget, the sum she hinted at
was too monstrous. She wants more than my money. Help me,
mister Acton, for the sake of your own family interests.
Help me, I beg your pardon, family interests. I don't understand.
If my daughter is childless, her next of kin is
poor Marmaduke Panton, who is dying at Cannon's, not married
or likely to marry, and failing him, your nephew, Sir
Thomas Acton, succeeds my nephew tom Bleta or Lita's baby
might come to be the possible inheritor of the great
Valdez sapphire. The blood rushed my head as I looked
at the great shining swindle before me. What diabolical jugglery
was at work when the exchange was made, I demanded fiercely.
It must have been on the last occasion of her
wearing the Sapphires in London. I ought never to have
let her out of my sight. You must put a
stop to Miss Panton's marriage in the first place, I pronounced,
as autocratically as he could have done himself. Not to
be thought of, he admitted helplessly. Myra has my force
of character, she knows her rights, and she will have
her jewels. I want you to take charge of the
thing for me. If it's in the house, she'll make
me produce it. She'll inquire at the banker's. If you
have it, we can gain time if but for a
day or two. He broke off. Carriage wheels were crashing
on the gravel outside. We looked at one another in consternation.
Flight was imperative. I hurried him downstairs and out of
the conservatory just as the door bell rang. I think
we both lost our heads in the confusion. He shoved
the case into my hands, and I pocketed it without
a thought of the awful responsibility I was incurring, and
saw him disappear into the shelter of the friendly night.
When I think of what my feelings were that evening,
of my murderous hatred, of that smirking, jesting Jezebel, who
sat opposite me at dinner. My wrathful indignation at the
thought of the poor little expected air defrauded ere his birth,
of the crushing contempt, I felt for myself and the Bishop,
as a pair of witless idiots, unable to see our
way out of the dilemma. All this was boiling and
surging through my soul. I can only wonder Domenico, having
given himself a holiday in the kitchen maid doing her
worst and wickedest, that gallant or Jaundyce did not put
an end to this story at once. Uncle paul Leta
was looking her sweetest when she tripped into my room
next morning. I've news for you, she pointing a delicate
forefinger in the direction of the corridor is going. Her
buckoms have reached Paris at last, and sent for her
to join them at the Grand Hotel. I was thunderstruck.
The longed for deliverance had but come to remove, hopelessly
and forever out of my reach. Lady Cartwriget in the
great Valdez Sapphire, Why aren't you overjoyed? I am. We
are going to celebrate the event by a dinner party.
Tom's hospitable soul is vexed by the lack of entertainment
we had provided her. We must ask the Brownlea some
day or other, and they will be delighted to meet
anything in the way of a ladyship or such smart
folks as the Duberley Parker's. Then we may as well
have the Blomfields. And ere that awful modern Savray's dessert
service she gave us when we were married. I had
no objection to make, and she went on rubbing her
soft cheek against my shoulder like the purring little cat
she was. Now I want you to do something to
please me and missus Blomfield. She has set her heart
on seeing your rubies. And though I know you hate
her about as much as you do that Sevrey China,
what wear my rubies with that? I won't. I'll tell
you what I will do, though I've got some carbuncles
as big as prize gooseberries a whole set. Then you
have only to put those Bohemian glass vases and candelabber
on the table and let your gardener do his worst
with his great, forced scentless vulgar blooms, and we shall
all be in keeping Lada pout it an idea struck me.
Or I'll do as you wish on one condition. You
get Lady Cartwich to wear her big sapphire, and don't
tell her I wish it. I lived through the next
few days as one in some evil dream. The Sapphires,
like twin specters, haunted me day and night. Was ever
man so tantle to hold the shadow and see the
substance dangled temptingly within reach. The Bishop made no sign
of ridding me of my unwelcome charge, and the thought
of what might happen in a case of burglary, fire,
earthquake made me start and tremble at all sorts of
inopportune moments. I kept faith with Lita and reluctantly produced
my beautiful rubies on the night of her dinner party.
Emerging from my room, I came full upon Lady cartwiche
it in the corridor. She was dressed for dinner, and
at her throat I caught the blue gleam of the
great sapphire. Lita had kept faith with me. I don't
know what I stammered in reply to her Ladyship's remarks.
My whole soul was absorbed in the contemplation of the
intoxicating loveliness of the gem that a palais royal deception. Incredible.
My fingers twitched, my breath came short and fierce with
a lust of possession. She must I have seen the
coveteous glare in my eyes. A look of gratified, spiteful
complacency overspread her features as she swept on ahead and
descended the stairs before me. I followed her to the
drawing room door. She stopped suddenly, and murmuring something unintelligible,
hurried back again. Everybody was assembled there that I expected
to see, with an addition, not a welcome one, by
the look of Tom's face. He stood on the hearth
rug conversing with a great hulking, high shouldered fellow, sallow
faced with a heavy mustache and drooping eyelids from the
corners of which flashed out a sudden, suspicious look as
I approached, which lighted up into a greedy one as
it rested on my rubies, and seemed unaccountably familiar to me.
To Lady Cartwich, it tripping past me, exclaims he has
come at last, My naughty, naughty boy, mister acton this
is my son, Lord Cartwitchitch, I broke off stored in
the midst of my polite acknowledgments to stare blankly at her.
The sapphire was gone. A great gilt cross with a
Scotch pebble like an acid drop was her sole decoration.
I had to put my pendant away, she exclaimed confidentially.
The clasp had got broken somehow. I didn't believe a word,
Lord Cartwich. It contributed little to the general entertainment at dinner,
but fell into confidential talk with Missus Duberley Parker. I
caught a few unintelligible remarks across the table. They referred
I've subsequently discovered to the lady's little book on North
Church races, and I recollected that the spring meeting was
on and tomorrow, cup day. After dinner there was great
talk about getting up a party to go to General
Fairfird's drag. Lady Cartwich it was an ecstasies, and tried
to coax me into joining. Elita declined positively, Tom accepted.
So the look in Lord Cartwhich's eye returned to my
mind as I locked up my rupies that night. It
made him look so like his mother I looked round
my fastenings with unusual care, safe in closets and desks
and doors. I tried them all, coming at last to
the bathroom. It opened at once. It was the housemaid's doing.
She had evidently taken advantage of my having abandoned the
room to give it a thorough spring cleaning, and I
anathematized her. The furniture was all piled together and veiled
with sheets. The carpet and felt curtain were gone, and
there were new brooms about. As I peered around, a
voice close at my ear made me jump. Lady Cartwridge,
it's I tell you, I have nothing, not a penny.
I shall have to borrow my train fare before I
can leave this. They'll be glad enough to lend it.
Not only had the portierre been removed, but the door
behind it had been unlocked and left open for convenience
of dusting behind the wardrobe. I might as well have
been in the bedroom. Don't tell me, I recognized Courtwich.
It's growl. You've not been here all this time for nothing.
You've been collecting for a kilburn cot or getting subscriptions
for the distressed Irish landlords. I know you now, I'm
not going to see myself ruined for the want of
a paltry hundred or so. I tell you the colt
is a dead certainty. If I could have got a
thousand or two on him last week, we might have
ended our dog Day's millionaires. Hand over what you can
you've money's worth? If not money? Where's that sapphire you stole?
I didn't. I can show you the receipted bill. All
I possess is honestly come by. What could you do
with it? Even if I gave it to you? You
couldn't sell it as the valdaiz and you can't get
it cut up as you might if it were real.
If it's only ogus, why are you always in such
a flutter about it? I'll do something with it. Never
fear hand over. I can't. I haven't got it. I
had to raise something on it before I left town.
Will you swear it's not in that wardrobe? I dare
say you will. I mean to see give me those keys.
I heard a struggle and a jingle, and the wardrobe
door must have been flung open for a streak of
light struck through a crack in the wood of the back,
creeping close and peeping through I could see an awful sight.
Lady cartridget in a flannel wrapper, mina's hair, teeth complexion,
pointing a skinny forefinger that quivered with rage at her son,
who was out of the range of my vision. Stop
that and throw those keys down here directly, or I'll
rouse the house. Sir Thomas is a magistrate and will
lock you up as soon as look at you. She
clutched at the bell rope as she spoke. I'll swear
I'm in danger of my life from you, and give
you in charge. Yes, And when you're in prison, I'll
keep you there till you die. I've often thought i'd
do it. How about the hotel robberies last summer at
cows Eh, mightn't the police be grateful for a hint
or two? And how about the keys fell with a
crash on the bed, accompanied by some bad language in
an apologetic tone, and the door slammed too. I crept
trembling to bed. This new and horrible complication of the
situation filled me with dismay. Lord Cartwich, It's wolfish glance
at my rubies took a new meaning. They were safe enough.
I believed, but the sapphire. If he disbelieved his mother,
how long would she be able to keep it from
his clutches that she had some plot of her own,
of which the bishop would eventually be the victim. I
did not doubt or why had she not made her
bargain with him long ago? But supposing she took fright,
lost her head, allowed her son to wrest the jewel
from her, or gave consent to its being mutilated. I
lay in a cold perspiration till morning. My terrors haunted
me all day. They were with me at breakfast time,
when Lady Cartwach had tripping in smiling, made a last
attempt to induce me to accompany her and keep her
bad bad boy from getting among those horrid betting men.
They haunted me through the long peaceful day with Leta
and the Tita Teat dinner, but they swarmed around and
beset me sorest when sitting alone over my sitting room fire,
I listened for the return of the drag party. I
read my newspaper and brewed myself some hot, strong drink.
But there comes a time of night when no fire
can warm and no drink and cheer the Bishop's despairing
face kept me company, and his troubles and the wrongs
of the future air took possession of me. Then the
uncanny noises that make all old houses ghostly during the
small hours began to make themselves heard. Muffled footsteps trod
the corridor, stopping to listen at every door. Door latches,
gently clicked boards creaked unreasonably, sounds of stealthy movements came
from the locked up bathroom, the welcome crash of wheels
at last, and the sound of the front door bell.
I could hear Lady Cartwitch it making her shrill adieu
to her friends and her steps in the corridor. She
was softly humming a little song as she approached. I
heard her unlock her bedroom door before she entered. An
odd thing to do. Tom came sleepily stumbling to his room. Later,
I put my head out, Where is Lord Cartwich? It
haven't you seen him? He left us hours ago, not
come home. Eh, well, he's welcome to stay away. I
don't want to see more of him. Tom's brow was
dark and his voice surly. I gave him to understand
as much. Whatever it happened, Tom was evidently too disgusted
to explain. Just then I went back to my fire,
unaccountably relieved, and brewed myself another and a stronger brew.
It warmed me this time, but excited me foolishly. There
must be some way out of the difficulty. I felt
now as if I could almost see it, if I
gave my mind to it. Why suppose there might be
no difficulty at all? The bishop was a nervous old gentleman.
He might have been mistaken all through Boggarts might have
been mistaken. I might No, I could not have been mistaken,
or I thought not. I fidgeted and fumed and argued
with myself till I found I should have no peace
of mind without a look at the stone in my possession.
And I actually went to the safe and took the
case out. The sapphire certainly looked different by lamplight. I
sat and stared, and all but over persuaded my better
judgments into giving it a verdict Bilgert's mark. I suddenly
remembered it. I took my magnifier and held de pendent
to the light. There scratched upon the stone was the
Greek Beta. There came a tap on my door, and
before I could answer. The handle turned softly, and lord
cartwhich it stood before me. I whipped the case into
my dressing gown pocket and stared at him. He was
not pleasant to look at, especially at that time of night.
He had a disheveled, desperate air. His voice was hoarse,
his red rimmed eyes wild. I beg your pardon, he began,
civilly enough. I saw your light burning, and thoughts as
we go by the early train tomorrow, you might allow
me to consult you now on a little business of
my mother's. His eyes roved about the room. Was he
trying to find the whereabouts of my safe? You know
a lot about precious stones, don't you? So? My friends
are kind enough to say, won't you sit down? I
have unluckily little chance of indulging the taste of my
own account, was my cautious reply. But you've written a
book about them and know them when you see them,
don't you. Now? My mother has given me something and
would like you to give a guess at its value.
Perhaps you can put me in the way of disposing
of it. I certainly can do so. If it is
worth anything? Is that it? I was in a fever
of excitement, where I guessed what was clutched in his palm.
He held out to me the Valden sapphire. How it
shone and sparkled like a great blue star. I made
myself a deprecating smile as I took it from him.
But how dare I call it false? To its face?
As well? Accused the son in heaven of being a
cheap imitation. I faltered and prevaricated feebly. Where was my
moral courage? And where was the good, honest, thumping lie
that should have aided me? I have the best authority
for recognizing this as the very good copy of a
famous stone in the possession of the Bishop of north Church.
His scowl grew so black that I saw he believed me,
and I went on more cheerily. This was manufactured by
Johannes Bookers. I can give you his address, and you
can make inquiries yourself, by special permission of the then owner,
the late Leon Montenero handed back. He interrupted. His other
remarks were outrageous but satisfactory to hear. But I waved
him off. I couldn't give it up. It fascinated me.
I toyed with it, I caressed it, I made it
display its different tones of color. I must see the
two stones together. I must see it outshine its paltry rival.
It was a whimsical frenzy that seized me. I can
call it by no other name. Would you like to
see the original? Curiously enough, I have it here. The
Bishop has left it in my charge. The wolfish light
flamed up in cartwich It's eyes as I drew forth
the caves. He laid the Valdez down on a sheet
of paper, and I placed the other, still in its case,
beside it. In that moment they looked identical, except for
the little loop of sham stones replaced by a plain
gold band in the Bishop's jewel. Cartwich It leaned across
the table eagerly. The table gave a lurch, the lamp tottered,
crashed over, and we were left in semi darkness. Don't stir,
cartwich It shouted. The paraffin is all over the place.
He seized my sofa blanket and flung it over the
table while I stood helpless. There. That's safe. Now, have
you candles on the chimney piece. I've got matches. He
looked very white and excited as he lit up. Might
have been an awkward job with all that burning paraffin
running about, he said, quite pleasantly. I hope no real
harm is done. I was lifting the rug with shaking hands.
The two stones lay as I had placed them. No,
I nearly dropped it back again. It was the stone
in the case that had the loop with the three
sham sapphires. Cartwich it picked the other up hastily. So
you say this is rubbish, he asked, his eyes sparkling wickedly,
and an attempt at mortification in his tone. Utter rubbish,
I pronounced, with truth and decision, snapping up the case
and pocketing it. Lady Cartwich, it must have known it. Ah. Well,
it's disappointing, isn't it. Good Bye, we shall not meet again.
I shook hands with him, most cordially. Good bye, Lord Cartwitch.
It so glad to have met you, and to your mother.
It has been a source of the greatest pleasure. I
assure you. I have never seen the Cartwich it since
the bishop drove over next day in rather better spirit.
Miss Panton had refused the chaplain. It doesn't matter, my lord,
I said to him heartily. We've all been under some
strange misconception. The stone in your possession is the veritable one.
I could swear to that anywhere the Sapphire Lady cart
which it wears, is only an excellent imitation, and I
have seen it with my own eyes, is the one
bearing Bogert's mark. The Greek beta