“It’s the only thing that interests me,” said Reggie. He was tired of the lady. “You don’t understand the question, madame. This isn’t the kind of trinket anyone can pick up. It’s a jewel. This little lady”—he handled her affectionately—“she’s fifteen thousand years old. She’s palaeolithic. There’s only a few of her in the world. Some Frenchman called her type the Hottentot Venus, because she’s a little like the women of that tribe. But the woman she was modelled on may have been an ancestor of yours or mine.”
“I think not, Mr. Fortune.” Miss Lomas was horrified.
“We have had time to improve on her, madame,” Reggie bowed. “This is the point. Outside national museums, there are only half a dozen collections which own one of these ladies. Who’s the quaint savant that gives them to a schoolgirl to play with? May I see the names of your girls?”
“I only accept pupils with the highest references, sir,” said Miss Lomas, overawed but fuming.
So Reggie was allowed to inspect her register. He studied it in vain. No name suggested connection with any of the few archaeologists likely to own a Hottentot Venus. He gave it up.
“Well, sir?” Miss Lomas was triumphant and disdainful. “I am very much obliged to you for your courtesy. I regret exceedingly that I have troubled you with my affairs. I need not ask you to waste any more of your valuable time on the case that I foolishly submitted to you.”
“But, my dear Miss Lomas, I’m just gettin’ interested,” said Reggie, with an engaging smile. “You know, my first thoughts were that your children had been ragging.”
“Really, Mr. Fortune! Your way of putting things! Please understand that the girls in my school do not ‘rag’—as you call it. I think my sex leaves that to young men, Mr. Fortune.”
“Women are so revoltin’ nowadays,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder—you have no new woman in the flock? No bold, bad rebel?” The face of Miss Lomas answered him. “I thought so. We must have the second solution. Somebody wanted somebody’s photograph.”
“But why? Why should one girl want to steal photographs of the other girls? It’s nonsensical.”
“Oh, it’s all nonsense,” Reggie agreed cheerfully. “It’s gibberish till we find the key. But here’s one odd thing for certain, the Hottentot Venus. I expect to find a lot more before we’ve done.”
“Do you wish to alarm me, Mr. Fortune?”
“I’m only tryin’ to keep you interested. Now all these things have happened recently. Has anyone new come to the school recently? Any new servant? Any new teacher? Well, any new girl?”
“It’s very unusual to have any new girls this term. But we have had one—Alice Warenne. She came with the highest introductions, Mr. Fortune. The Countess of Spilsborough asked me to take her.”
“And who are Alice Warenne’s people?”
“Her father is English but lives abroad. A distinguished-looking man, obviously well off. He has friends, as you see, in the best society. Her mother, I believe, has been long dead. She was brought up in France, and speaks French better than English. But this is all waste of time, Mr. Fortune. Alice Warenne is a delightful girl—a sweet nature. I can’t imagine anything against her. Pray don’t form idle prejudices.”
“And has anybody called to see Alice Warenne since the affair of the photographs?”
Miss Lomas showed some surprise. “Dear me, Mr. Fortune—now you mention it, yes. Her father was over in England and came down to see her a few days ago. He had another man with him, I remember.”
“Another? Do fond fathers often bring a faithful friend down to see how their daughters are growing?”
“Now you mention it, I suppose it is unusual.” Miss Lomas looked at Reggie with apprehension. “Still, it’s quite reasonable, Mr. Fortune.”
“Well—if he were a brother—or a selected fiancé.”
“Really, Mr. Fortune! Alice is a child. Not more than sixteen. This other man was older than her father. I wish I could remember his name.”
“So do I,” Reggie agreed.
“It was nothing uncommon, I think. He was rather an uncommon-looking man—big and handsome, but artistic or Bohemian in his clothes.”
“And after the fond father and the faithful friend saw Alice you found this little lady”—he held up the Hottentot Venus—“in the library?”
“It was—the day after,” Miss Lomas cried. “Good gracious!”
“We are getting on, aren’t we?” Reggie smiled. “But I wonder where we are getting to?”
“They saw her in the library. I shall certainly ask Alice for an explanation,” Miss Lomas said.
Reggie put the Hottentot Venus in his pocket and smiled at her. “I’m sure you’re much too wise. Let’s say nothing till we can say something sensible. I should like to see Alice. Just ‘for to admire,’ you know.”
“The girls will be in the playing-field now.”
“Delightful. Suppose you walk me through. Treat me as if I was intendin’ to be a parent.”
“I beg your pardon?” said Miss Lomas, with emphasis.
“Oh, I mean a fond father comin’ to see if it was all nice enough for my darlin’ daughter. Don’t let Alice think I’m interested in her.”
“Very well, Mr. Fortune.” Miss Lomas went off for her hat.
The playing-field was a pleasant place set about with old oaks, in the freshest of their leaves then, through which there were glimpses of the sunlit Devon sea. Comely girls in white, clustered, arms in the air, at basket ball, or ran and smote across the tennis-courts.
Reggie paused and sank down on a seat. “This is very soothin’ and pretty,” he murmured. “Here are our young barbarians all at play. Why will they grow up, Miss Lomas? They’re so much more satisfying now.”
Miss Lomas stared at him. “Naturally they grow up,” she explained. “They can’t be children all their lives.”
“Some of us never were,” Reggie sighed. “Charming, charming. Like the young things in Homer, what? The maidens and the princess of the white arms they fell to playing at ball. Charming—especially that one. Yes. Which did you say was Alice?”
“That
