“Then things happened so rapidly that I lost my grip and balance and sense of right and wrong. I sent you on a wild chase to almost certain death. I planned to go with you to watch and see. The secret, powerful hand of the junta sought to threaten us both and save the great cause. How singularly we fought at cross purposes! They wanted you to go and stir up any kind of wild revolt, but they wanted to keep me and themselves from any possible connection with it in thought and deed. They almost threatened you with death. They pushed you out alone. They tried to keep me from sailing. And finally you went down into the depths, dear heart, almost to the far end.” Her voice fell away, and they lay and watched the birth of the new and sun-kissed day.
All that day they wandered and talked and finally late at night came home. Kautilya was almost ready for bed when she said drowsily:
“Oh, Matthew—the little leather bag I brought—where did you put it, dear?”
“Leather bag? I saw none.”
“But it was not at the union headquarters. They said I took it with me to—to Sara’s.”
“Then you must have left it there. We carried nothing away. Nothing.”
“Oh, dear—I must have left it—what shall I do?”
“Was it valuable or just clothes?”
“It was—valuable. Very valuable, intrinsically and—in meaning.”
“I am so sorry—may I ask—?”
“Yes—it has many of the crown jewels of Bwodpur.”
“The crown jewels!”
“Yes. Some of them always travel with the heir to the throne. I have carried these since father’s death. Some of the jewels are beautiful and priceless. Others, like the great ruby, are full of legends and superstitious memory. The great ruby is by legend a drop of Buddha’s blood. It anoints the newborn Maharajah. It is worn on his turban. It closes his eyes in death.”
“Oh, Kautilya, Kautilya! We must find these things—I will go to Sara’s myself. What do you think them worth—I mean would they be worth stealing?”
“Oh, yes, they must be worth at least a hundred lakhs of rupees.”
Matthew paused, then started up.
“What—you mean—you don’t mean—a million dollars?”
“At least that—but don’t be alarmed. They are mostly too large and unusual for sale. They are insured and I have a description. Probably the bag is sitting somewhere unnoticed. Oh, I am so careless; but don’t worry. Let me write a note and call a messenger. I have faithful helpers. The bag will soon be found.”
The note was dispatched, and Kautilya was soon making a mysterious Indian dish for supper and singing softly.
Matthew was still thinking with astonishment, “The crown jewels of Bwodpur—a million dollars!”
VI
Sammy was uneasy. He had a telegram from Sara announcing her sudden return from New York. She was arriving in the morning. But there was no letter in answer to several urgent ones from Sammy, a bit misspelled and messy, but to the point, He had suggested among other things that Sara remain east until September.
Sara, after the tragic failure of her long-laid plans, had taken a trip to New York. She put on her best clothes and took plenty of funds. She wired to the Plaza for a suite of rooms—a sitting-room, bedroom, and bath. She arrived in the morning of April 10 on the Twentieth Century, had a good lunch, and went to a dressmaker whose name and ability she had learned. She ordered a half-dozen new gowns. She secured, at the hotel, orchestra seats for two good shows—Ziegfeld’s Follies and a revue at the Winter Garden, and she also got a seat for The Jewels of the Madonna at the Metropolitan. She hired a car with a liveried chauffeur and drove through the park and down the avenue to Washington Square and back to the Plaza and had tea there; she took a walk, went to the Capitol, and dined at the Ritz.
For four or five days Sara tried the joys of free spending and costly amusement. She was desperately lonesome. Then she struck up acquaintance with a lady and her husband whom she met at the Plaza by the accident of sitting at the same table. They were from Texas. Sara was a bit dismayed, but did not flinch. They were as lonesome and distraught as she and grabbed like her at the novelty of a new voice. They played together at theater and dinner, rides to Westchester and Long Island, and at night they went to Texas Guinan’s club, accompanied by an extra man whom the husband had picked up somewhere. Sara was sleepy and bored, and the drinks which she tasted made her sick. Her escort when sober danced indifferently and was quite impossible as he got gradually drunk.
Next morning Sara arose late with a headache, reserved a berth to Chicago, and wired Sammy:
“Arrive tomorrow morning at nine.”
Sammy had not been expecting this. In fact he had made up his mind that she would be away at least three months and was laying his plans. This sudden turn upset him. He looked about the office helplessly. When the Fall campaign began, he would want Sara back in harness; but he was not ready for her now. First of all, that damned Towns had made no move toward a divorce. There were his belongings which Sara had bundled up hastily and sent to him when she left. They were in the corner of his office now, and Sammy rose and aimlessly looked them over. There was a bundle of clothes, two boxes of books, and two bags. What had Sara written about these bags? Yes, here was the note.
“This smaller bag is not his and doesn’t belong in the house. It was sitting in the library. It may belong to some of the guests or to that woman. If it is inquired for, return it. If not, throw it away.”
Sammy lifted it. It seemed rather solid. He
