sapphires — bought by Frank Wagnall for his wife from under the very purse of Lord Fauntley, who had been deliberating on their purchase for months — were nearest the door, and therefore the most likely prize. At the other end was the pearl-necklace that Lady Kenton had presented. Lady Kenton had taken the Wagnalls under her wing from their first day in London, and she had been constrained to make an imposing show.
She had succeeded, for the pearls had been as much admired as any of the gifts, and she almost haunted the library to hear the world commend her.
When Mannering drifted in after the reception, he found Lady Kenton with Gerry Long and two or three other acquaintances. The Dowager was exclaiming in delight at this gift and that gift, but all she said led up to her pearls, and she longed for comment. Gerry Long saw it, and obliged. Lady Kenton’s gratification was such that she voted the Americans the most courteous race on earth. Mannering looked at the pearls for three full minutes, and then said, in a voice of awe: “That is the most perfect graduation I’ve seen.”
Lady Kenton immediately relieved America of the crown of courtesy and gave it to England. Mannering and Long smiled at each other.
And then Lady Kenton took a step forward, intent on examining a pair of gold-backed brushes presented by a distinguished gentleman from America. She stubbed her foot against a table-leg, or a chair, or the carpet — she was never sure which — she was too startled — and after a single gasp she began to hop on one foot, pressing her lips together to prevent herself from crying out in pain. Mannering and Long leapt to her rescue.
Neither of them could explain afterwards how it happened, but Lady Kenton’s leg was swept from under her, and she went sprawling across the table. The cry she uttered brought the two detectives from outside flying into the room. Two men actually on the spot jumped up in alarm. Lady Kenton was still clawing at the table; Mannering and Long were doing their best to help and to restore her outraged dignity.
Twenty or thirty of the precious girts to the now happily married couple were spread about the floor, and the table, so orderly a few minutes before, was in contusion. The plain-clothes men were completely bewildered. The little private detective from Dorman’s Agency was hopping from one foot to the other in an effort to count everything at once; but he failed, and Mannering was smiling contentedly to himself.
Lady Kenton had stumbled across the table some six inches away from the pearls she had presented to Mane. It was the moment for which Mannering had been waiting. He had slipped them from the table and into his pocket while he had appeared to be concerning himself only with rescuing her. Not for a moment had the expression on his face altered. No one had seen him; no one would have guessed that in those few seconds the haul had been made. The ease of it almost made him laugh aloud.
The Dowager’s body had hidden the little manoeuvre from everyone else in the room, and as at last he managed to steady her he felt like hugging her in sheer jubilation. Instead: “I’m terribly sorry,” he said “I wouldn’t. . .”
“It was as much my fault as yours, protested Long.
Lady Kenton was firmly convinced that it had been neither of them. She was breathing rather heavily, and surveying the mess about her. The gold-backed hair-brushes were at her feet, next to a set of carvers and a cut- glass bowl, which, happily, was not damaged.
“I slipped,” she said, regaining her self-control and breathing more freely. “I really can’t have you taking the blame. . . .”
Lorna Fauntley, one of many attracted by the Dowager’s cry of alarm, entered the room. A look from Mannering told her that he was anxious to get the Countess out of the way. Lorna managed it, without any fuss. The excitement waned when it was discovered that there had been a slight accident, and no burglary, so far as was known.
It was Mannering who made the suggestion to Bristow’s man.
“You’d better check the presents, and make sure everything’s here,” he suggested, and the man grimaced, but nodded in agreement.
“I don’t suppose anything will be missing, sir, but if anything
“That’s just it,” said Mannering. He offered the other a cigarette, and smiled to himself as his hand inside his pocket brushed against the pearls. “Do you need any help?”
The Yard man was beginning to wonder whether the other was not a colleague. Then he remembered Mannering’s reputation, and decided against it.
“No, thanks,” he said, refusing both the help and the cigarette; “we’ll manage all right. Be best to shut the room for half an hour, though. Would you mind . . .”
“I’ll see Colonel Belton,” promised Mannering.
The Colonel, a little worried at first, was so pleased at Mannering’s assurance that it was just a precautionary measure that he insisted on locking the door of the library himself. Mannering strolled with him towards the reception-room. The gaiety of the earlier afternoon was dimming a little, although the younger spirits were still laughing and talking together. Lady Mary Overndon was yawning. The Wagnalls were thinking of getting away.
Frank Wagnall Senior, a tall, white-haired man who had made a fortune from motor cars, contrasted remarkably with his wife. He was thin, pale-faced, and tired-looking, while Daisy Wagnall was inclined to be fat, genial, rosy- faced, and possessed of surprising reserves of energy. Mannering found himself surprised that she had a son of Frank’s age.
But Mannering had little time to be astonished, for he was anxious for the party to break up quickly. He judged that the checking of the gifts would take three-quarters of an hour, and already ten minutes had passed. Before the discovery of the missing pearls was made he wanted at least a dozen of the guests to be away from the house. If that happened the police could not make a proper check, and he was anxious that they should not have the chance.
He was with Lady Mary when he stifled a yawn and then smiled apologetically.
“For a young man,” she said laughingly, “you can’t stand the pace very well, John.”
“It’s my usual good habits,” said Mannering, with a lazy smile. “You seem to be standing up to it well enough.”
Lady Mary’s smile was turned suddenly into a yawn, and they both laughed.
