The Master of the Ceremonies Part 59

"Suppose he is wrong," said Denville to himself, as he went off on his painful task. "What an insult to an officer--the Prince's friend."

"I dare not do it," he said after a pause. "It must be some mistake.

Such an act would be the work of a common thief. He must be wrong."

He shrank from his task, but he felt that it must be done, for how could he let it go forth that there had been another diamond robbery from his house. It was impossible.

As he hesitated he caught sight of Lord Carboro' watching him. Barclay too was there, evidently about to speak to him, and he felt that he must. Better to offend Major Rockley than have another scandal.

He mingled among his guests with a word here and there, sending some downstairs, and interfering in a _tete-a-tete_ between May and Sir Harry Payne, who had at last won a promise from the giddy little creature to whom he was paying court. He then went up to Rockley, snuff-box in hand, and addressed him as he was leaning against the chimney-piece.

"I'm afraid our little reunion has no charms for you, Major Rockley," he said.

"On the contrary, my dear Denville, I am delighted."

"But you have had no refreshment. Pray come down."

"Without a lady?"

"Yes, without a lady. Or, no, I will speak now, and you can go afterwards. A little mistake, Major Rockley. You'll pardon me; a little mistake."

His heart sank as he spoke, and he trembled almost guiltily at the task he had in hand.

The Major's dark eyes flashed as he scowled at him.

"If you mean, sir, that by addressing--"

"No, no, Major Rockley; a little mistake. You thought you dropped your snuff-box."

"I thought I dropped my snuff-box, sir? Are you mad?"

"You'll pardon me, Major Rockley, no. You made a mistake; it is my duty to see the matter right. You imagined that you dropped your snuff-box, and you picked it up, when you were seated a little while ago."

"Well, sir?"

If Lord Carboro' had made a mistake, how dare he meet that man again?

"You do not seem to understand me, Major Rockley. The case you picked up was not a snuff-box, but contained jewels belonging to one of my guests."

"I did not know your guests carried their jewels in cases, Mr Denville," said the Major, with a forced laugh. "They seem to be wearing them."

"It is so easy to make a mistake, Major Rockley," continued the MC, on finding that it was more simple to attack than he had expected.

"I never make mistakes, sir," said the Major haughtily.

"I should not have spoken to you like this, sir, if the act had not been seen," said Denville, angrily now.

"Act? Seen? Good heavens, sir! Do you take me for a thief?" said Rockley, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Do you think--why--confound! I am astounded!"

He had been angrily thrusting a hand into first one and then another pocket, bringing out a snuff-box, then a handkerchief, and lastly the little morocco case.

"That must be it, Major Rockley," said the MC coldly; and their eyes met with a curiously long stare.

"As you say, Mr Denville, mistakes are so easily made. I am in your debt for this--I shall never forget it. You will excuse me now, I am sure. The little matter has agitated me more than I should care to own."

The MC bowed.

"Seen, you said, I think? Was it you who saw me pick up that case--by accident?"

"No, sir."

"Would you oblige me with the name of the person?"

"It is not necessary," said Denville. "I am master of the ceremonies, sir, of my own house. This affair, I may tell you, will be kept private by us both."

Major Rockley bowed and turned to gaze round the room, to see if he could select Denville's informant; but there was no one whom he felt ready to blame but Richard Linnell--Barclay he knew it could not be--or was it that handsome Cora Dean?

He turned again close by the door, and tried to catch Claire Denville's eyes; but she was talking gravely to Linnell, so, half bowing to Denville, he said quietly:

"Thank you for excusing me. Of course, I rely upon the discretion of yourself and friend. Adieu."

"_Adieu_," and he left with curses and deadly threats in his breast.

"Had man ever such luck!" he hissed, as he strode by the house, glancing up at the well-lit balcony and drawing-room, from which he turned with an involuntary shudder. "Curse the old idiot, but I'll serve him out for this presently. I wonder whether the old dancing-master cares for his girl and boy? Well," he added, with a peculiar smile, "we shall soon see."

Volume Two, Chapter XIV.

AT THE CARD-TABLE.

"Friends?" Richard Linnell was saying, as he stood looking earnestly at Claire. "Nothing more?"

"No," she said, in a low, sad voice; "always, come what may, your grateful friend."

She turned to her sister, who was watching her, and met her with:

"Claire dear, you're going mad. That man hasn't a penny."

"Well?" said Claire gravely. "And you are encouraging him."

"As you are encouraging Sir Harry Payne? No, May; you are mistaken."

"I declare if you are going to insult me I will not stay," cried May, turning scarlet. "It is disgraceful. It is cruel. If I could only find Frank--"

Just then a loud burst of angry voices came from one of the card-tables.

It was eleven o'clock; there had been refreshments; the room was very hot, and the play, for ladies, high; and now the voice of the Master of the Ceremonies was heard in protest.

"Ladies--ladies--I beg--I must request--"

"Order my carriage directly, Sir Matthew. It serves me right for coming to such a place," cried Lady Drelincourt.