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"Bring him down," said Polly, moving along to the foot, "and I'll show him to Phronsie, and tell her about him. Then she'll like him, d.i.c.k."
"I'll like him, d.i.c.k," echoed Phronsie, "if he doesn't frighten my dolls."
This episode taking the family life to the rear of the house, no one noticed that soft footsteps were pa.s.sing through the open front door, that Jane, who was sweeping the vestibule, had left ajar to run and tell d.i.c.k that she had not let the bird out of the dining-room. So the uninvited guest to the household let himself up easily to the scene of his hopes--the location of the ladies' jewel-boxes.
XX
THE SECRET
Mrs. Chatterton, standing by her toilet table, carefully examining her wealth of gray hair to note the changes in its tint, was suddenly surprised in the very act of picking out an obnoxious white hair, by a slight noise in the further corner of the apartment. And dropping her fingers quickly and turning away from the gla.s.s, she exclaimed, "How dare you, Hortense, come in without knocking?"
"If you make a noise I'll kill you," declared a man, standing in the shadow of a portiere and watching her underneath a slouched black hat.
There was a slight click that caused the listener's nerves to thrill.
But her varied life had brought her nothing if not self-control, and she coolly answered, "If you want my money, say so."
"Not exactly money, ma'am," said the man, "for I don't suppose you have much here. But I'll thank you to hand over that there box of diamonds."
He extended the other hand with its dingy fingers toward a large ebony jewel-case elaborate with its bra.s.s hinges, and suggestive of double locks, on a corner of the table.
"If you are determined to take it, I suppose I must give it to you,"
said Mrs. Chatterton, with evident reluctance handing the box designated, very glad to think she had but a few days before changed the jewels to another repository to escape Hortense's prying eyes. In making the movement she gave a sweeping glance out the window. Should she dare to scream? Michael was busy on the lawn, she knew; she could hear his voice talking to one of the under gardeners.
"See here, old lady," warned the man, "you keep your eyes in the room.
Now then," his greedy glance fastened on the glittering gems on her fingers, "I'll thank you to rip them things off." d.i.c.k, racing along the further end of the hall after his bird with a "Whoop, la--I've almost caught you," startling him, he proceeded to perform the service for himself.
"There he goes!" cried d.i.c.k, "in her room. Bother! Well, I must catch him." So without the preamble of knocking, the boy dashed into the dressing-room. The bird whizzing ahead of him, flashed between the drawn folds of the portiere.
"Excuse me," cried d.i.c.k, rushing in, "but my swallow--oh!"
"Go back!" cried Mrs. Chatterton hoa.r.s.ely, "you'll be killed."
The bird flying over his head, and the appearance of the boy, disconcerted the robber for one instant. He held the long white hand in his, tearing off the rings. There was no chance for her to escape, she knew, but she could save d.i.c.k.
"Go back!" she screamed again. There was only a moment to think, but d.i.c.k dashed in, and with a mighty spirit, but small fists, he flung himself against the stalwart arms and shoulders.
"O heavens!" screamed Mrs. Chatterton. "He's but a boy, let him go. You shall have the rings. Help--help!"
d.i.c.k, clutching and tearing blindly at whatever in the line of hair or ragged garment he could lay hold of, was waging an unequal warfare. But what he did was accomplished finely. And the bird, rushing blindly into the midst of the contention, with whirrings and flappings indescribable, helped more than an army of servants, to confuse the man. Notwithstanding, it was soon over, but not before Mrs. Chatterton had wrenched her fingers free, and grasped the pistol from its loose hold in his other hand. The box under his arm fell to the floor, and d.i.c.k was just being tossed to the other side of the room; she could hear him strike the cheval-gla.s.s with a dull thud.
"I can shoot as well as you," said Mrs. Chatterton, handling the pistol deftly. "Make a noise, and I will."
He knew it, by her eyes, and that she had taken good aim.
"Where are you, d.i.c.k?" cried Polly's voice outside, and rapping at the door. "Mrs. Chatterton, have you seen him?"
"Come in," called Mrs. Chatterton, with firmest of fingers on the trigger and her flashing eyes fastened upon the seamed, dirty face before her.
Polly threw wide the door.
"We have a man here that we don't want," said Mrs. Chatterton. "I'll take care of him till you get help. Hurry!"
"Oh, d.i.c.k!" cried Polly in a breath, with a fearful glance at the boy lying there.
"I think he's all right, Polly." She dared say no more, for d.i.c.k had not stirred.
Polly clasped her hands, and rushed out almost into Jasper's face. "A burglar--a burglar!" and he dashed into Mrs. Chatterton's room.
"Don't interfere," said Mrs. Chatterton. "I'm a splendid markswoman."
"You needn't shoot," said the man sullenly. "I won't stir."
"No, I don't think you will," said the gray-haired woman, her eyes alight, and hand firm as a rock. "Well, here are the men."
Jasper had seized a table-spread, and as Michael and the undergardeners advanced, he went back of the robber, and cleverly threw it over his head. It was easy to secure and bind him then. Polly rushed over to d.i.c.k.
"Turn the creature over and let us see how he looks," said Mr. King, hurrying in as the last knot of the rope was made fast. The old slouched hat had fallen off in the struggle, and the man's features came plainly to view. "He's no beauty, and that's a fact."
"I've seen that fellow round here for many a day," said Michael, giving the rec.u.mbent legs a small kick. "Oncet he axed me ef we wanted ony wourk done. I mind yees, yer see," with another attention from his gardening boot.
"I want to tie one rope," cried a voice. d.i.c.k opened his eyes, rubbed them, and felt of his head. "I'm all right, Polly. I saw stars, but I've got over it, I guess. Let me give him the last knot." He staggered blindly to his feet.
"I'll tie for you," said Jasper, "trust me, d.i.c.k's all right, only stunned," he telegraphed to the rapidly increasing group.
"Tell his mother so, do, somebody," said old Mr. King.
"Well, Cousin Eunice, you've covered yourself with glory," he turned on her warmly. She had thrown aside the pistol, and now sank into a chair.
"Never mind," she waved it off carelessly, "I'll imagine the compliments. Just now I want a gla.s.s of wine. Call Hortense, will you?"
The man on the floor tried to raise his head. But he couldn't, so was obliged to content himself with an ugly grin.
"That bird has flown," he said. "I'll peep. She put me up to it; we was goin' shares on the old lady's stuff."
With that Mrs. Chatterton's spirit returned. She sprang from her chair, and rushed around from bureau to closet to see the extent of her maid's dishonesty. But beyond a few minor deficiencies of her wardrobe, there was no robbery to speak of. Evidently Hortense had considered it unwise to be burdened with much impedimenta. So the robber was hauled off to justice, and Phronsie, coming wonderingly up the stairs, came softly in upon them, in time to see d.i.c.k rush up to Mrs. Chatterton with a "You're a brick!" before them all.
After that, there was no more hope of keeping things quiet in the house for Phronsie's sake. Meanwhile the bird, who had played no mean part in the engagement, now a.s.serted himself, and blindly rushed into capture.
"Isn't he lovely!" cried Phronsie, tearing her gaze off from the wonderful wings, as the swallow fluttered under the mosquito netting speedily brought in.
"Yes, his wings are," said Polly. "Oh, d.i.c.k! do tell over again how it all happened."
So d.i.c.k rehea.r.s.ed once more as far as he knew the story, tossing off lightly his part of it.
"Your poor head, does it ache?" cried Polly, feeling of the big b.u.mp on the crown.