CHAPTER XVI.

_THE PACE THAT KILLS._

Odeyne sat in her well-appointed carriage, being rapidly driven from one grand house to another, leaving cards, paying short calls, or presenting herself for a few minutes at some fashionable reception.

Her manner was gracious and free from any shadow of constraint or anxiety; she spoke with her customary gentle amiability. She fancied that some amongst her friends looked at her with curiosity, and threw into their manner a shade of compassionate concern when they addressed her, but if she were conscious of this she gave no sign.

Nevertheless her heart was strangely heavy within her, and as she drove homewards through the westering sunlight, her duties all done, she lay back in her carriage with a cloud of care upon her brow, and the shadow deepening in the eyes which now looked as though they were no strangers to vigils or tears.

What was going on about her? What was the meaning of the strange sense of pressure and peril that seemed to be advancing upon them step by step? She had striven to fight against this feeling as a delusion of a wearied and jaded mind, but latterly it had become urgent and intense.

Why was Desmond so strangely preoccupied that he could neither eat nor sleep? Why could he never even spare the time to accompany her into society as he used to do, and yet was more urgent than ever that she should go, and that she should appear in all the richest trappings that wealth could buy?

Only this morning he had been almost fiercely insistent that she should carry out a very long programme of social duties; he had sketched out himself exactly where he wished her to show herself, and had charged her to be very gay and bright.

"Mind you let everybody see that you are well and happy, and that nothing is the matter," he said more than once, "and don't forget the ball at the Mastermans' in the evening. If I am not back in time, Beatrice will call for you and take you. I will settle all that with her. I have to step across to see Vanborough before I go to the City."

"Not back before ten o'clock, Desmond?" Odeyne had said. "Surely business cannot keep you all those hours. It is not good for you. You are looking terribly haggard and jaded as it is."

He turned upon her almost roughly, although as he continued to speak his manner grew gentler--

"Nonsense! whatever you do, don't go saying things like that about me if people ask questions. It's only the hot weather, and being cooped up in town so long. I thought we should have been able to get back sooner. I tell you what, Odeyne, once let me get these few transactions pulled through and we'll go home and shut ourselves up there together, and not see a soul but our own people for as long as ever you like. I'm sick to death with noise and bustle and the sea of faces about one. Sometimes I wish I'd never come at all--never begun this sort of thing. I don't think the game is worth the candle--I don't indeed!"

Something in the underlying bitterness and weariness of the tone in which these words were spoken touched Odeyne to the heart. She had gone over to her husband and kissed him tenderly, and he had suddenly clasped her in his arms almost passionately and had said--

"You deserve a better husband, my loyal and precious little wife! Oh, if I had only been worthy of you! But you will try to think kindly of me and forgive me all the pain and trouble I have brought--when once we are free again."

"Forgiveness is no word between husband and wife, dearest Desmond," Odeyne had said gently, "because we are one, you know."

His parting kiss and clasp had been balm to her heart, and yet the day had dragged slowly along, although she had carried out to the letter her husband's wishes, and a strange presage of coming misfortune weighed upon her heart.

She reached home to find Desmond still absent, and she sat down to her solitary dinner alone. For once she did not even take the trouble to dress. She would have to dress for the ball later. She wondered if Desmond would return to take her. She heartily wished she need not go. But she would do nothing at such a time to thwart his lightest wish. She was afraid that something terribly wrong was threatening. What it could be she had no idea. Of his business matters Desmond never spoke a word, but she was certain from a number of things that he was engaged in some very large and hazardous transactions, and that for some time he had been exceedingly and increasingly anxious.

Apparently some crisis was near at hand, and after it had passed there was a hope of better and quieter days. It seemed as though he were as weary as she of the round of the treadmill of business and pleasure, and was panting for the freedom and quiet of their own home.

The hope that buoyed up Odeyne's heart all through the day was that the return home was near at hand, and that Desmond had learnt a lesson which might remain with him throughout his life. Tired as she was, she prepared cheerfully to carry out her husband's wishes in the minutest detail. She chose her most becoming ball-dress, and let Alice arrange her hair in the newest mode. It was patent that a good deal depended upon her keeping a brave face before the world, and if so, Desmond should never have to say that she had failed him at a pinch.

She was nearly dressed, when the sound of rustling draperies, and a short, sharp knock at the door, announced the arrival of a visitor, and Beatrice came hastily in.

She was dressed with her usual elaborate care and richness, but her face was strangely pale, and had an odd, drawn look that startled Odeyne as she caught sight of it in the mirror.

"Beatrice!" she cried, releasing herself from Alice's hands and turning quickly round, "something is the matter!"

"Yes," answered Beatrice, in a voice not quite like her own, "my jewels are gone!"

"Your jewels? Do you mean they have been stolen?"

"Yes--it must have been yesterday whilst we were at dinner. But I only found it out this afternoon! I have had a detective. Every inquiry has been made, but at the present moment there is no clue as to the thief. Probably somebody who knew his business very well."

"Oh, Beatrice!--taken from your room whilst you were at dinner, you say?"

"That seems the most probable solution, for there is no trace of violence anywhere. The man must have slipped in during the arrival of the guests, whilst the door was standing open. All we know is this. Your man, Garth, came with a note for Algernon whilst we were at dinner, and had to wait for the answer. He was put into the little alcove just at the head of the first staircase, and as he was waiting he noticed a man coming downstairs with a bag in his hand, who let himself quietly out at the front door. He thought nothing much of it at the time, supposing it to be some hair-dresser or person of that kind, who had preferred to make use of the front rather than the back staircase, knowing that all the guests were at dinner. But it is supposed that that was the burglar, and Garth thinks he could identify him if he saw him again, and has described him pretty minutely to the police. Whether I shall ever see my jewels again is quite another matter," and Beatrice bit her lips nervously as though to try and bring back the blood to them.

Odeyne saw that she was trembling all over. She had never seen Beatrice so unnerved before.

"What does your husband say?" she asked.

"Oh, he had hardly time to take it in at all. Desmond telegraphed for him just after the discovery was made, and he went off in a tearing hurry, leaving me to think of everything. I have not seen him since. He telegraphed that he could not get back, but that I was to go to the ball with you."

"You do not look fit, Beatrice," said Odeyne.

"Fit! what does that matter? Alice shall rouge me up--if you have such a thing as a rouge-pot amongst your toilet accessories! And you must lend me jewels to-night, Odeyne, it won't do to appear without them at the Mastermans'. We must both of us make a brave show, my dear--just to prove to all the world how gay and prosperous we are. Go and get your mistress's jewels out, Alice, and dress me up as cleverly as you know how. Oh, I am not going to throw up the cards till the game is lost. I will at least die game--as the men call it!"

"Beatrice, how wildly you talk," said Odeyne, as Alice went into the dressing-room to get the jewel-cases. There was no safe in this house, but they were securely locked up in a strong cupboard with a Bramah lock.

"Do I?" she queried with a short laugh. "I suppose it is a way we all of us have, when life or death hangs upon the next throw of the dice! Come, Odeyne, don't look at me like a scared creature. You must know by this time as well as I that something very critical is at hand. It is going to be neck or nothing, I take it, with a vengeance!"

Odeyne did not understand; but Alice was coming in with the jewel-boxes, and she made no reply.

"Take what you want," she said; "I am going to wear the string of pearls you sent me for a wedding present, Beatrice, and some ornaments that Desmond gave me soon afterwards."

"Well, make yourself grand enough, that is all; and I will have your diamonds, I think. I hope they will not be recognised as yours. I hardly think so. I was always rather great at diamonds myself--when I could get them."

Beatrice approached the table and opened some of the cases, and then, suddenly bending close down over them, uttered a sharp, startled cry.

"What is the matter?" asked Odeyne, who suddenly felt as though she were walking through a bad dream, not knowing from moment to moment what might happen next. "What is the matter?" she cried, coming up.

"Look!" cried Beatrice, whose face was as white as paper, and whose hands shook like aspens. "Look at your diamonds, Odeyne."

Odeyne looked, but could see nothing wrong.

"They are all there safe," she said, thinking that Beatrice had gone temporarily off her head with excitement. "What is the matter with you?"

"With me? You mean with them!" answered Beatrice, holding up case after case and closely examining them. "Odeyne, don't you see?--don't you understand?"

"See what? Understand what?" asked the girl, half frightened in spite of herself at her sister's words and looks.

"Somebody has been tampering with your jewels, Odeyne," said Beatrice. "These are not diamonds at all--they are only clever imitations. Somebody has done a very clever thing--has had duplicates made of your real stones in paste, and has quietly substituted the sham for the real! You have been even more shamelessly robbed than I have, my dear, for there has been a diabolic cunning and preparation over this fraud."

Odeyne stood silent and thunderstruck. If she had had time to observe anything else she would have noticed that Alice had suddenly turned as white as ashes, and put her hand to her heart as though some blow had been struck home there. She clutched at the back of a chair as though to save herself from falling; but neither her mistress nor Mrs. Vanborough had thoughts for her just then.

"What does it mean?" asked Odeyne, putting up her hand to her head in bewilderment. "What does it mean?"

"I think it means that there are traitors in the camp," answered Beatrice in a strange, dry voice. "I think it means that the rats are deserting the sinking ship, and human rats have the cleverness to carry off booty before they leave for ever."

But Odeyne could make nothing of these words. Her head was in a whirl. She stood looking down stupidly at the glitter of the sham gems, and all she could think of to say was--

"Are you sure they are not right, Beatrice? They look just the same--to me."

"You are not the first person who has been deceived by false gems, my dear," answered Beatrice, pulling herself together with a short, sharp laugh. "I think you have rather a faculty for taking glitter for gold. Don't be too much startled, my dear, when the truth comes home to you."

Odeyne heard these words without fully understanding them.

"Ought I to do anything?" she asked.

"I wouldn't trouble to-night. Let us see first what the night is going to bring forth," answered Beatrice. "There may be wheels within wheels that we know nothing about. Desmond himself may know all about it. Men have been driven to stranger shifts before this, than borrowing their wife's jewels for a while to tide them over a crisis."

Odeyne's pale face suddenly flushed crimson.

"Beatrice!" she exclaimed, almost fiercely. "You forget yourself, I think!"

"Perhaps I do," answered Beatrice, without a shadow of offence in her tone. "I think I have had enough to send me silly to-night. But come, Odeyne, we must not stay staring at these paste things like two blind owls. Paste or no, I must wear them to-night. They will pass muster in the throng we shall meet. Mrs. Vanborough's present reputation stands well enough to admit of the fraud undetected. Here, Alice, clasp this thing on my neck, please. It is at least lighter to wear than the original. Why, girl, your hands are like blocks of ice. You give me the shivers! You needn't be frightened at what you've heard. Your mistress is not the kind who will turn upon you, and accuse you of complicity with the robber."

"Alice, you are ill," said Odeyne. "But you must not give way. I should never think of blaming you. Indeed you have very little to do with my jewellery. We have always kept it locked away ourselves. It is probably the same gang that have robbed Mrs. Vanborough. Now don't tremble and look so white, but go to bed quietly. I can do very well without you when I come back, and I may be late. I do not feel sure of anything."

Time was getting on, and little as the two sisters-in-law felt disposed for the scene of gaiety which lay before them, loyalty to their husbands kept them to their appointment.

They put the finishing touches to their toilets, and then went down to the carriage.

"You don't think that girl knows anything about it, I suppose?" said Beatrice as they drove off. "She looked like a ghost, and was shaking like an aspen."

"I would trust Alice with untold gold!" answered Odeyne warmly. "I have had my fears for her. At first I was afraid she was going to have her head turned by all the admiration she received. She did try for a little while to play the fine lady rather too much. But she has good feeling and right principle, and of late she has been quite her own self again. I am certain she would die sooner than rob me. You must nob wrong her by a doubt, Beatrice."

"I think I have reached the stage when I doubt everybody," answered Beatrice a little bitterly. "I know Algy might be capable of getting up a plant like this, and keeping the jewels safe and snug somewhere; and I should not be certain of Desmond for that matter. Men often want a reserve fund to fall back upon in case of emergency. I don't think I could doubt you, Odeyne, but as for Alice and that husband of hers--I would not make too sure of their honesty, my dear. That man Garth is much too clever not to be a bit of a villain at heart!"

Odeyne was silent. She shivered a little at the recklessness of Beatrice's tone. Then a remembrance flitted across her brain of some words spoken long, long ago by Cissy Ritchie--now Cissy Hamilton, Guy's wife, her own sister--respecting the man Garth. She had not liked his face. She had thought it untrustworthy. But Desmond had always found him most faithful.

It seemed as though Beatrice was following out a similar train of thought, for she spoke suddenly aloud, though almost as one who speaks to herself.

"It might have been he. He knows the house. He was there some time, and there was nobody about. His description of another man may be just a clever bit of lying, to put us on a false scent. I should not be surprised in the least."

Odeyne knew what she meant, but said nothing. The dream-like feeling was coming over her again. A sort of numbness settled down upon her faculties. It gave her temporary relief from the terrible tension of the past day. She did not wish to be roused. She would sooner go on feeling it all a dream.

They arrived at the house whither they were bound. It belonged to one of the City princes, and the gathering included a great many persons who were more or less connected with the City and Stock Exchange. Others were there from a higher sphere. It was a very large assembly and a rather mixed one.

There was dancing in one great room, and the entertainment was called a ball; but great numbers of persons made no attempt to dance, but moved about the other rooms, talking together, and watching those who came in with more or less of interest.

It seemed to Odeyne as though the arrival of herself and Beatrice excited a certain amount of interest and attention. Was it fancy that they were both regarded rather closely, and that there was more than met the ear in some of the words addressed to them?

She felt also as though Beatrice were acting a part all the while, although she could not have explained why. She was so gay, so racy, so brilliant. She made sallies that convulsed her listeners, and her _grande dame_ air had never been more striking than to-night.

When questioned about husband or brother she unhesitatingly declared that they would soon be here. They had been detained by business rather late, and must dine, poor things, and have a smoke before turning out; but they were probably on their way now to answer for themselves; and so on, and so on; whilst Odeyne, who was certain that Beatrice knew no more of their movements than she did herself, listened in amaze, and was thankful that her sister-in-law's quick readiness saved her from the necessity of answering any of these embarrassing questions.

Yet what did it matter whether Desmond and Algernon appeared or not? And why did so many persons ask for them? Once she heard a whisper behind her quite distinct and clear.

"I think it must be all right after all. Those are Mrs. St. Claire and Mrs. Vanborough. They would hardly have shown their faces to-night if----"

A burst of music from the ball-room drowned the conclusion of the sentence. Odeyne felt her heart beating almost to suffocation, and she moved away from Beatrice's side and made her way out into a little covered balcony which she thought was quite empty. It was, however, tenanted by one person, a slight, girlish young creature, the young wife of an acquaintance of Desmond's, just known to Odeyne by sight and name.

As she sat down wearily, Mrs. Neil came up to her with a hesitating and almost deprecating air, and, sinking down upon the lounge beside her, clasped her hands nervously together, forgetting in her visible embarrassment to go through the ordinary form of greeting.

"Oh, Mrs. St. Claire," she said, "I am so glad to see you here. I have been so unhappy these last days; but you will tell me if I am wrong. It is all right, is it not? It is only wicked people who call it all a gigantic swindle? It will be all right in the end, will it not?"

Odeyne felt her lips growing dry. She had some trouble in framing her question.

"What are you talking about, Mrs. Neil?"

"Oh, don't mind keeping up before me--I know all about it. My husband has lots of shares; he says he will be ruined if--but of course that will never be! It is only a horrid calumny! Only I should be so glad to hear you say that you knew it was all right and a real genuine thing."

"If you would tell me what you mean," said Odeyne, "I should, perhaps, be better able to answer you; but----"

"Oh, Mrs. St. Claire, _of course_ I mean the mine--the gold mine they are all going wild about in the City. Mr. St. Claire and Mr. Vanborough are two of the directors, and they say they know all about it. You must have heard them talk. They say they have got up the whole thing."

"My husband never talks to me about business," answered Odeyne, trying to speak very calmly. "I have never heard him mention any mine. But I think--I hope--that if he is concerned in any scheme it will at least be honourably conducted. No one can be certain of success; but I think you may be sure that there will be upright dealing."

"That's what I said!" cried the little wife eagerly. "I was sure it would not turn out a swindle. Oh, I am so much obliged to you. You have made me happy again. I have been so wretched all day. It is so hard to be ruined in one night by some terrible crash--and disagreeable people frightened Alfred so, and said he had been a fool to trust his money in the hands of a known speculator. But I am sure your husband would never do a wicked thing, would he, Mrs. St. Claire?"

There was such childish appeal and such earnestness in the girl-wife's manner that Odeyne could have cried aloud in the anguish of her spirit.

Why could she not say that Desmond was above all reproach? Why could she not assure her that there was nothing to fear? She had said all she dared to do, but she could not go on repeating that assurance. Each moment that she reflected more upon the situation, the less assured did she feel that something terribly wrong was not hanging over them.

She rose suddenly to her feet and moved away.

"I hope all will be right, Mrs. Neil," she said; "but I do not understand business. Misfortune sometimes falls upon the most honourable."

And then she found herself face to face with Beatrice, who, underneath the rouge she had found and put on, was looking ghastly pale.

"Come, Odeyne, we have done our duty; we can be going now," she said. "There is a great rush for supper. We shall not be noticed. Do not say good-night to a single soul, but just come away. If they notice our departure they will think we are going somewhere else. We have done what we were sent here to do. Now we had better go and see if there is any news at home of our respective husbands."

She gripped Odeyne's arm almost fiercely. Together they went down the staircase and had their carriage called up. When they were within its friendly shelter Beatrice suddenly broke into dry, tearless sobs.

"This is the last of it--this is our last appearance in public, Odeyne," she said. "The next time we try to show our faces we should be hooted away as the wives of the men who are posted on the Stock Exchange as a pair of swindlers!"