IX
Thalia in the Police Court
The magistrate was a kindhearted man and seemed uncomfortable. He looked from the unemotional Mr. Parr who stood on the witness-stand, to the girl in the steel pen, and she was almost as cool and as self-controlled as the police witness. Her face was one which would have attracted attention in any circumstances, but in the drab setting of the police court, her beauty was emphasised and enhanced.
The magistrate glanced down at the charge-sheet before him. Her age was described as twenty-one, her occupation as secretary.
The man of law, who had had many shocks in his lifetime, and had steeled himself to the most unusual and improbable happenings, could only shake his head in despair.
“Is anything known against this woman?” he asked, and felt it was absurd even to refer to the slim, girlish prisoner as a “woman.”
“She has been under observation for some time, your worship,” was the reply, “but she has not been in the hands of the police before.”
The magistrate looked over his glasses at the girl.
“I cannot understand how you got yourself into this terrible position,” he said. “A girl who has evidently had the education of a lady, you have been charged with a theft of a few pounds, for although the article you stole was worth a large sum, that was all that your dishonesty realised. Your act was probably due to some great temptation. I suppose the need for the money was very urgent; yet that does not excuse your act. I shall bind you over to come up for judgment when called upon, treating you as a first offender, and I do most earnestly appeal to you to live honestly and avoid a repetition of this unpleasant experience.”
The girl bowed slightly and left the box for the police office, and the next case was called.
Harvey Froyant rose at the same time and made his way out of the court. He was a rich man to whom money represented the goal and object of life. He was the type of man who counted the contents of his pocket every night before he went to bed, and he would have had his own mother arrested in similar circumstances. Thalia Drummond’s offence was made more heinous in his eyes because her last act of service had been to hand to him the warning of the Crimson Circle, from the shock of which he had not yet recovered.
He was a large, thin man with a permanent stoop. His attitude towards the world was one of acute suspicion; for the moment it was one of resentment, for he held the strongest views on the sacredness of property.
To Parr, who followed him out of the court, he expressed his disappointment that the girl had not been sent to prison.
“A woman like that is a danger to society,” he complained in his high-pitched, peevish voice. “How do I know that she isn’t in league with these blackguards who are threatening me? Forty thousand they ask for! Forty thousand!” He wailed the last words. “It is your duty to see that I come to no harm! Understand that—it is your duty!”
“I heard you!” said Inspector Parr wearily. “And as to the girl, I don’t suppose she ever heard of the Crimson Circle. She’s very young.”
“Young!” snarled the lean man. “That’s the time to punish them, isn’t it? Catch them young and punish them young, and you may turn them into respectable citizens!”
“I dare say you’re right,” agreed the stout Mr. Parr with a sigh, and then inconsequently, “Children are a great responsibility.”
Froyant muttered something under his breath, and without so much as a nod of farewell, walked rapidly through the court, into the motorcar which was waiting for him at the entrance to the courthouse.
The inspector watched him depart with a slow smile, and, looking round, caught the eye of a young man who was waiting by the clerk’s door.
“Good morning, Mr. Beardmore,” he said. “Are you waiting to see the young lady?”
“Yes. How long will they keep her?” asked Jack nervously.
Mr. Parr gazed at him with expressionless eyes, and sniffed.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, Mr. Beardmore,” he said quietly, “you are probably taking a greater interest in Miss Drummond than is good for you.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jack quickly. “The whole thing was a plot. That beast Froyant—”
The inspector shook his head.
“Miss Drummond admitted that she took the statuette,” he said, “and, besides, we saw her coming out of Isaacs’. There isn’t any doubt about it.”
“She only made the admission for some reason best known to herself,” said Jack violently. “Do you think a girl like that would steal? Why should she? I would have given her anything she wanted”—he checked himself suddenly. “There is something behind this,” he went on more quietly, “something which I do not understand, and probably you do not understand either, inspector.”
The door opened at that moment and the girl came out. She stopped at the sight of Jack and a faint flush crept into her pale face.
“Were you in court?” she asked quickly.
He nodded, and she shook her head.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said almost vehemently. “How did you know? Who told you?” She seemed oblivious to the presence of the inspector, but for the first time since her arrest she showed some sign of her pent emotion. The colour came and went, and her voice shook a little as she continued: “I am sorry you knew anything about it, Mr. Beardmore, and am desperately sorry you came,” she said.
“But it isn’t true,” he interrupted. “You can tell me that, Thalia? It was a plot, wasn’t it? A plot intended to ruin you?” His voice was almost pleading, but she shook her head.
“There was no plot,” she said quietly. “I stole from Mr. Froyant.”
“But why, why?” he asked despairingly. “Why did you—”
“I am afraid I can’t tell you why,” she said with the
