The Oyster Part 47

The lighted room, ma.s.ses of flowers, gay dresses and bright jewels, swam before her eyes. Then at the door she saw Luigi, and saw him wave and smile to her.

The secret was undone. This man knew. Fate had brought him to London.

Mechanically she walked on.

"Ah, milady!"--his brown hand gripped hers. "Well met. And--you do not look well."

"Mr Herbert, I've dropped a brooch, just over there; try to find it for me." Esme sent the boy away, stood staring at the Italian.

"I have not ten minutes," he said. "I have to go, but my uncle would have me come here to see the English monde. And so--I see the child is hurted, but is nearly well again. I came yesterday," he said. "I leave to-morrow, recalled to Italy, or I would have gone to see him and you."

He knew no one there. He was alone and he was leaving London. Yet at any moment he might meet Denise with her husband.

"I am so glad to see you," Esme faltered. "See, come to supper, and I will try to find Esme; she is here too."

She hurried him downstairs to the supper-room; saw Denise, and leaving Luigi ran across to her.

Denise was with Lord Ralph Karton.

"Denise!" Esme bent down to her. "Get away. Luigi is here. He takes me for you. He is at supper with me. Get _away_, I say; but I must see the boy to-morrow, if I keep silence again--I must," she said.

Denise Blakeney slipped to the door, stood there panting, hiding; she was not well, she told Lord Ralph; sent him for her husband.

"Esme--I dare not," she whispered back; "but here--you are hard up--take this for grat.i.tude."

She slipped a great bar of diamonds from her bodice, held it out.

"It cost a thousand," she said. "But you've saved me."

"I'll take it if I see the boy," said Esme, sullenly.

"Not until Cyril's out of London. Telephone to me. I dare not."

Esme's fingers closed on the glittering toy she held. It was magnificent; meant ease, peace--for months.

"So again I sell him," she said bitterly. "Go, Denise, quickly, while there is time."

She was pressed against Denise by the crowd, struggled away just as Sir Cyril came down the stairs to his wife.

Esme slipped the diamond bar inside her dress, fastening the clasp to some lace. She went back to the Italian doctor, sat talking to him, saw him leave, and at the last was almost discovered.

For Luigi, bowing low over his country-woman and hostess, had told joyously of his meeting with Milady Blakeney.

"I will tell the uncle who said she was not fair that he is blind," he laughed.

The Marchese smiled, puzzled. "Fair to us, perhaps," she said. "She has gone home, poor lady."

"But no," said Luigi, puzzled.

Then the crowd separated the two Italians. Luigi went back to his hotel, and on next day to Italy.

A line no broader than that of a spider's weaving had saved Denise from exposure.

She drove home so frightened that she looked really ill; went to her room, clinging to Cyril's arm. The husband she had once treated so lightly seemed now a bulwark between her and all misfortune. To lose him--lose her home, her position--

Denise was pale, exhausted, as she slipped into her big chair, crouched there shivering.

Sutton, stiffly sympathetic, unloosed the clinging satin gown, brought a warm, rose-pink wrapper. Cyril ran for brandy.

"But, milady, the bar of diamonds. It is gone."

Cyril Blakeney paused at the door; he had heard.

"I told you that the clasp was bad, Sutton; I was afraid."

"I do not remember your ladyship having mentioned it," said Sutton, acidly.

"Your big bar, Den? The one I gave you last Christmas?"

"Yes." Denise sipped the fiery spirit. "Telephone, Cyril; send a man round. The fastening was bad; search the car."

"I do not think that we shall find it." Sir Cyril's face was very stern. He remembered seeing Esme pressed close to his wife. In his heart he had no doubt the woman had stolen again.

Esme had been Denise's friend in time of trial. He could not give her into the hands of the police. He said nothing to his wife, but went down slowly, heavily, to write a note and send it round.

And as fogs rise, so the whisper grew; Sir Cyril shrugged his shoulders when he spoke of the loss; he openly turned away from Esme Carteret in the Park.

"Someone, I fancy, took it from my wife when she felt faint; at a huge reception like that there are curious people. Lord Harrington noticed it as she came to supper."

Sharp eyes had seen Esme press close to Lady Blakeney, whisper to her; someone had noticed that she slipped something inside her dress.

London must draw its skirts aside from this offender and suspect.

CHAPTER XIV

Spring again, dancing backwards from summer's hot grasp. Light winds whispering wantonly as they caressed the waking earth. Soft sunlight, and everywhere the scent of narcissi, the blaze of golden daffodils.

The brown drawing-room had known no change during the pa.s.sing months.

It was as stiffly hideous as ever. The _Church Times_ and _Sunday Herald_ lay on the same table; the winter fires had been ordered away, and a vase of daffodils glowed yellow in the grate.

"It would be good in Devonshire to-day." Bertie Carteret looked out at the dull, prim square, where the sooty trees were trying to grow green.

"Lord! think of the great clean air there blowing in over the sea, and the flowers in the old spring garden; and here with spring there is dust, and there are always pieces of paper blowing round corners."

Through a weary winter he had drawn the veil of friendship across love.

Estelle's gentle face had brightened the world for him, a world which had grown very dark.