“A little; but not a great deal, mind you.”
He received more than he had bargained for during the next hour. (Jerry Long was interested as a collector in stones, and he played his hobby with all the fervour of youth. It was a difficult but interesting hour, and Mannering’s comparatively small knowledge of gems was tested to the utmost. Happily for Mannering the American did most of the talking, and seemed in no way suspicious that the other was an amateur. Mannering learned a great deal that he had not known before, and he told himself that it would be useful in the future.
One of his most serious difficulties had been the telling of genuine jewels from imitation. It was a task that frequently puzzled even the experts, but by cultivating Gerry Long, who had the American thoroughness with detail, he could learn while seeming to pass opinions.
His quickly-begun friendship with Gerry Long had other advantages that were not immediately obvious.
Long was reputedly wealthier than the Wagnalls, and, indeed, he had control of an immense fortune left by a trust-manipulating father. If anything had been needed to convince the interested hangers-on of Society that John Mannering was one of the moneyed few, it was supplied by his association with the young American.
Mannering was more convinced than ever of his lucky star. He liked Long was drawn by the American’s quick enthusiasm, by his determination — which was almost grim — to make the best of a six months” sojourn in England. And he decided, very quickly, that Long was one of the few people he would not rob.
“It’s almost as if I still had a conscience,” Mannering told himself in front of the mirror at the Elan some weeks later. “Well, to-morrow we shall see. . . .”
The morrow was the day of days for Marie Overndon and Frank Wagnall, of America. Gerry Long was to be best-man. Lorna Fauntley, rather surprisingly, was to be one of seven bridesmaids, chiefly through the influence of the Dowager Countess of Kenton.
Bristow’s mention of publicity was more than justified, and the Overndon wedding was without doubt one of the outstanding events of the year. John Mannering was to be one of many honoured guests. He used the word “honoured” when talking to himself, and there was a rather grim smile at the corners of his mouth.
Marie Overndon looked very lovely.
She was dressed in white, and as Mannering saw her walking from the altar he remembered vividly the preciousness of that month at the Manor. He remembered too the half-promises and his belief in her. But he viewed it all with the air of a cynic. He knew that beneath her serene beauty there was a brittle hardness; he reminded himself that if he had been rich, instead of — comparatively — poor, he himself and not Frank Wagnall would have been walking with her to the strain: that breathed o’er Eden.
Marie was entirely self-possessed. She saw him, he knew, but looked past him. Was there the slightest suggestion of a smile on her lips, or was his imagination playing him tricks?
Mannering looked at the man.
Wagnall had many points in common with Gerry Long. He was tall, fair-haired, lithe, and passably good-looking; he carried his clothes easily, and he looked as pleased with life as most people thought he should be. He also looked young.
Mannering, smiling slightly, watched them disappear from the church, and then told himself that he would be busy in the very near future. The last echoing notes from the great organ seemed to keep his thoughts company.
CHAPTER TWELVE
COLONEL GEORGE BELTON HAD OFFERED HIS HOUSE TO THE Overndons for the wedding, and he had helped the Wagnalls to make a good job of it. The old place looked positively lively where, a few months before, it had been comparatively deserted. The servants, many imported for the occasion, were resplendent in livery, and they knew how to smile. To Mannering there seemed as many menservants as there were guests, and he knew that there were over a thousand guests.
It was what the Wagnall. called a “little” crowd, and what Marie Overndon termed “just a few of my closer friends”. It was a success. Everyone seemed happy, no one was too hilarious, and the calmness of the bride, exquisite as only youth and Molyneux could make her, and very lovely in her own right, created admiration that few dared try to put into words. There were the usual speeches, the usual toasts, the usual jokes, and a refreshing contribution from Gerry Long, who, when called upon for his best-man’s oration, coloured furiously, cleared his throat, raised his glass, and said, “Here’s how!” Mannering warmed to Long; the man was completely unaffected.
The library had been given up to the gifts, and Mannering was more interested in it than in anything else.
He looked round it, soon after the bride and groom had left for Paris and thence to the South. The room was admirably situated, he knew. For one thing, there were no windows, but two glass skylights set slantwise in the ceiling afforded ample light.
There was only one door, which led into the hall, and that was guarded day and night by a regular plain-clothes man who had been pointed out to Mannering by Bristow, and a stocky little man, far too polite to be a guest, who was actually from Dorman’s Detective Agency.
There were other policemen in the house too, and a guard outside. The chances of a burglary were literally nil, but the possibility of an inside job was there, however, and no chances were being taken by the Wagnalls. But. . .
Mannering had his plan worked out.
He had examined the gifts thoroughly, and found that very few of them were practicable objects for a robbery. There were three things, however, which the Baron wanted, although he was going to be satisfied if he contrived to get one of them.
The Wagnall diamonds, a necklace of rare beauty, were a present from the groom’s lather to the bride. In the open market they would have been worth thirty thousand pounds. In the Baron’s market they were worth about five or six thousand, and they were a prize worth gaining, although they would be difficult to sell.
The Wagnall necklace was placed in the centre of the long table and surrounded by other gifts, as though accepting their homage. At the far ends two other gifts of precious stones held places of honour. The Rennel
