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Updated: May 28, 2025
Jimmie Dale's voice grew plaintive, "I really can't make out a word when you yell like that. . . . Yes. . . . I had occasion to use them this afternoon, and I took the liberty of borrowing them temporarily are you still there, Mr. Maddon? . . . Oh, quite so!
"Well, say at the expense of another man's reputation of mine," suggested Jimmie Dale, with his whimsical smile. "You need only say that a man came to you this evening, told you that he stole these rubies from Mr. Maddon during the afternoon, and asked you, as Mr. Maddon's private secretary, to restore them with his compliments to their owner."
Her meeting in the mercer's shop with the fair "Willow Wand," Lady Maddon, had been so full of spirited and pungent truth as to drive her ladyship back to London after her two hours' fainting fits were over.
One of her favourite tricks was to pout at him and twit him on his adoration of my Lady Dunstanwolde, of whom she was in truth not too fond; though she had learned to keep a civil tongue in her head, since her ladyship was a match for half a dozen such as she, and, when she chose to use her cutting wit, proved an antagonist as greatly to be feared as in the days when Lady Maddon, the fair and frail "Willow Wand," had fallen into hysteric fits in the country mercer's shop.
Lady Maddon says that women who are very vile and undeserving are sometimes wickedly clever, and can pick up modist women's manners wondrously, but they always break out before long and are more indecent than ever; and you may mark my Lady Maddon's words, she says this one will do the same, but first she is playing a part and restraining herself that she may deseave some poor gentleman and trap him into marrying her.
And K. Wilmington Maddon Jimmie Dale's smile grew whimsical he had known Maddon quite intimately for years, had even dined with him at the St. James Club only a few nights before. Maddon was a man in his own "set" and Maddon, interfered with, was likely to prove none too tractable a customer to handle. And young Burton, the letter had said, was Maddon's private and confidential secretary.
Maddon, the British Consul at Mogador, to whom we brought letters of introduction from Sir Arthur Nicolson, helped us in several ways, and in his turn provided us with letters to an Arab in Marrakesh.
A slow flush of disappointment, deepening to one of anger dyed Burton's cheeks. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" he cried out. "Go to Maddon with a childish tale like that! There's no man living would believe such a cock-and-bull story!" "No?" inquired Jimmie Dale softly. "And yet I am inclined to think there are a good many that even Maddon would, hard-headed as he is.
It was a strange case, not a pleasant one and the raw edges where they showed were ugly in their nakedness. Old Isaac Pelina, young Burton, and Maddon K. Wilmington Maddon, the wall-paper magnate! Curious, that of the three he should already know two old Isaac and Maddon!
I'm going to give you another chance with Maddon. Here are the stones." He reached into his pocket and laid the case on the table. But now Burton made no effort to take the case his eyes, in that puzzled way again, were on Jimmie Dale. "A better way?" he repeated tensely. "What do you mean? What way?"
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