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If Roger had come back; if, after all, he had only pretended to go for the pearl-stringer! She dared not guess what he would think at finding O'Reilly with her in his house. Too well she remembered the day of their one quarrel, when he had brought up this man's name in connection with Clo's, when he had accused her of crying it out in her sleep. "Mr.
Miss Blackburne was impressed, not only by the magnificence of the hall, but by the originality of its decoration. Roger, having let himself and the pearl-stringer in with his latch-key, regretted that he had done so. He did not want to see Beverley alone just then. It would be better to have her summoned by a servant.
The pearl-stringer knew something about crowns and coronets: duchesses, countesses, baronesses, and small fry like that. But this crown was royal. She was going to get good "copy" for her notes! Beverley's hand moved toward the purple case. She was in a desperate hurry to get her business with Miss Blackburne over, and escape into the hall again.
Roger Sands' heart had been hard toward his wife when they met. He had settled upon a policy of silence for the present, while in self-protection he watched developments. He agreed quietly to Beverley's request that he should fetch the pearl-stringer, though feeling a cold, sick certainty of her motive in making it. He went, as he had given his word that he would go, to 27 Elm Street, Yonkers.
She had left the room only at the moment when O'Reilly brought in the half-fainting girl; and she had been particular to close the door because of the pearls. She had placed them on a table in the boudoir, ready for the pearl-stringer. Not that she feared their being stolen! Her own maid had been sent out for the afternoon. Two of the other servants had been given a holiday.
Meanwhile, there's nothing to stay for, is there? I might as well be with mother." It was arranged that she should go home in a taxi, to save the time which must be wasted, waiting for Beverley's car. Mrs. Sands paid, of course, and gave the pearl-stringer a present of fifty dollars, "to make up for her trouble."
The pearl-stringer had often heard of him in various ways; and her work took her into a set who knew, or gossiped, about his private affairs. She had listened to women's talk concerning Mrs. Sands, "the girl from nowhere," and, though Miss Blackburne was "good as gold," she did enjoy a little spicy scandal.
"Madam will come in a few minutes," he repeated to Miss Blackburne, who had been anxiously awaiting him at a half-open door. "I think," he added, "she is busy, miss." "In that case," suggested the pearl-stringer, "perhaps you'd better call Mr. Sands." "Very well, miss, I'll do so." Johnson turned away, and Miss Blackburne retreated to the boudoir.
Beverley shook her head. "I am a bad guesser." "It's partly about your pearls. By the by, was the pearl-stringer satisfactory?" "Oh, quite," Beverley murmured, sipping her coffee. "I'm glad she made a good job. The rope looks as fine as if no accident had happened, I suppose?" "It's a wonderful rope," his wife managed to reply.
It was with her as the pearl-stringer had said of herself: she "did not know she could only feel" that the good little woman had something on her conscience, something that she was obliged to hide. Clo had by this time succeeded in clearing her mind from cobwebs. Suddenly a light shone like flame upon the mystery. "Peterson!" was the name that printed itself upon the girl's brain.
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