“What!”
“You heard. She took Molly’s pearl necklace.”
“Nonsense.”
“Well, it’s gone.”
Molly had risen with shining eyes.
“I thought as much. So my dear darling George is innocent after all.”
Very few people in this civilised world have ever seen a baffled tigress, but anybody who could have watched Mrs. Waddington’s face at this moment would have gained a very fair knowledge of how baffled tigresses look.
“I don’t believe it,” she said sullenly.
“Well, the necklace has gone, hasn’t it,” said Sigsbee H. “And you don’t suppose any of the guests took it, do you? Though I wouldn’t put it past that Lord Hunstanton guy. Of course that girl has got it. She fainted on the wedding-present table, didn’t she? She said she wanted air and rushed out, didn’t she? And nobody’s seen her since, have they? If it hadn’t been for going for my long country walk, I’d have got on to this hours ago.
“I’m going straight to New York to see George and tell him,” said Molly, breathing quickly.
“You will do nothing of the kind,” said Mrs. Waddington, rising.
“And I’m going to New York to see the police,” said Sigsbee.
“You are certainly not! I will go to New York, and I will inform the police. You and Molly will stay here.”
“But listen. …”
“I want no further discussion.” Mrs. Waddington pressed the bell. “As for you,” she said, turning to Molly, “do you suppose I am going to allow you to pay nocturnal visits to the apartments of libertines like George Finch?”
“He is not a libertine.”
“Certainly not,” said Sigsbee H. “A very fine young fellow. Comes from Idaho.”
“You know perfectly well,” Molly went on, “that what father has told us absolutely clears George. Why, the girl might just as well have come in and said that father had deserted her.”
“Here!” said Mr. Waddington. “Hi!”
“She only wanted an excuse for getting into the house.”
“It is possible,” said Mrs. Waddington, “that in this particular instance George Finch is not so blameworthy as I had at first supposed. But that does not alter the fact that he is a man whom any mother with her daughter’s happiness at heart must regard with the deepest suspicion. He is an artist. He has deliberately chosen to live in a quarter of New York which is notorious for its loose-thinking and Bohemian ways. And. …”
The door opened.
“You rang, madam?”
“Yes, Ferris. Tell Bassett to bring the car round immediately. I am going into New York.”
“Very good, madam.” The butler coughed. “I wonder, madam, if it is not taking a liberty, if I might be permitted to ride on the box-seat beside the chauffeur?”
“Why?”
There are occasions in life when to give one’s true reasons for some particular course of action would be tedious. The actual explanation of the butler’s desire to visit the metropolis was that he wished to pay a call upon the editor of that bright and widely-read weekly paper, Town Gossip, in order to turn an honest penny by informing him of the sensational scene which had occurred that day in the highest circles. Almost immediately after the facts of this scandal in high life had been called to his attention, Ferris had started to telephone the Town Gossip offices in order to establish communication, only to be informed that the editor was out of town. At his last attempt, however, a cautious assistant, convinced at length that the butler had something of real interest up his sleeve and was not disposed to reveal it to underlings, had recommended him to call upon L. Lancelot Biffen, the editor-in-chief, at his private address on the ninth floor of the Sheridan Apartment House, near Washington Square. Mr. Biffen, the assistant thought, would be back after dinner.
All this the butler could, of course, have revealed to his employer, but, like all men of intellect, he disliked long explanations.
“I have just received a communication informing me that a near relative of mine is ill in the city, madam.”
“Oh, very well.”
“Thank you, madam. I will inform Bassett at once.”
“Besides,” said Mrs. Waddington, as the door closed, going on where she had been interrupted, “for all we know, the girl’s story may have been perfectly true, and her theft of the pearls the result of a sudden temptation on the spur of the moment.”
“Mother!”
“Well, why not? I suppose she was in need of money. No doubt your Finch callously omitted to provide for her in any way.”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” said Sigsbee H.
“What do you know about it?” said Mrs. Waddington.
“Nothing,” said Sigsbee H., prudently.
“Then kindly refrain from talking nonsense.”
Mrs. Waddington left the room with ponderous dignity, and Sigsbee H., still prudent, closed the door.
“Say, listen, Molly,” he said, “I’ve got to get up to New York right away. I’ve just got to.”
“So have I. I certainly mean to see George tonight. I suppose he has gone back to his apartment.”
“What’ll we do?”
“Directly the car has gone, I’ll run you up in my two-seater.”
“ ’At-a-baby!” said Mr. Waddington fervently. “That’s the way to talk.”
He kissed his daughter fondly.
XIV
I
Mrs. Waddington found the authorities at Police Headquarters charming. It was some little time before they corrected their initial impression that she had come to give herself up to justice for committing a jewel-robbery: but, this done, they threw themselves heart and soul into her cause and became extraordinarily helpful. True, they were forced to admit that the description which she gave of the thief conveyed absolutely nothing to them: but if it had done, they assured her, she would have been amazed at the remorseless speed with which the machinery of the Law would have been set working.
If, for instance, the girl had been tall and thin with shingled auburn hair, they would have spread the net at once for “Chicago Kitty.” If, on the other hand, she had had a snub nose and two moles on her chin, then every precinct would have been warned by telephone to keep an
