Page:Burton Stevenson--The marathon mystery.djvu/123

Rh all, Cecily glanced from time to time with admirable nonchalance; one would have sworn she had been reared in New York. She chatted gaily, eating her ice, sipping her wine, looking at me with eyes that glowed like stars. Then suddenly, as she looked up, her face changed. I glanced up, too, and caught Jim Godfrey’s astonished eyes fixed on mine. He bowed and passed on.

“Who is that gentleman?” demanded Cecily eagerly, leaning across the table toward me. “You know him?”

“Oh, quite well,” I answered, more and more surprised. “His name is Godfrey.”

“God-frey,” she repeated slowly, after me, as though fixing it indelibly in her memory. “And what is his business?”

“He’s a reporter by trade; he gathers news for a paper,” I added, seeing that she did not wholly understand.

“Oh,” she said, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. “I see.” Then, as she met my glance, she added, “I fancied that I had met him somewhere; I was mistaken. In New York I have met no one except you, missié.”

But I scarcely heard her; my eyes had dropped to a pin at her throat; as she leaned forward, I could see it very clearly—an opal surrounded by a blazing ring of diamonds. I looked at it mechanically—then with a sudden, intent interest. For one link of that brilliant ring was missing; one of the diamonds had fallen out.