Page:The Popular Magazine v72 n1 (1924-04-20).djvu/99

 to say to me about—the—Barford rubies, Mr. Chayne?” she said, a curious reserve in her manner and voice.

Salaman smiled and bowed.

“Permit me to remind you of the old adage that deeds speak louder than words, Lady Barford,” he said rather floridly—he was always prone to be florid with ladies—and poured the handful of rubies on a table close by, with a gesture.

“The rubies! You really have recovered them! I did not believe” she gasped. “But—where did you get them? From whom? In what way did you—secure them? I don't understand.”

There was no sign of relief or pleasure in her manner. Rather, she seemed afraid, startled, uneasy and tremendously surprised. She must have sensed that Salaman was noting this, for she looked at him steadily.

“This is so very unexpected,” she said with a pale smile. “I congratulate you,” she added. Sover, she ignored wholly.

Then the door opened quick!y and a tall, bronzed, youthful-looking man came impulsively in.

“Enid, we shall” he said as he came, but broke off sharply as he saw Salaman and the jockey. It was Lord Barford.

“Oh, I'm sorry—am I intruding? I” His blue eyes caught sight of the rubies on the table and he stopped short, his mouth open.

“Why—the rubies!”

There was very real relief in his pleasant voice, for the stones were heirlooms and, though he owned them, yet serious legal difficulties were liable to arise should they ever pass permanently out of his possession.

“This will save an enormous amount of bother,” he went on gayly.

His wife nodded, almost reluctantly, it seemed.

“We have to thank this gentleman, Mr. Salaman Chayne, for restoring them,” she said.

Lord Barford turned at once to Salaman, smiling and offering his hand.

“Then let me make haste to do so. You have extricated me from a tiresome difficulty, Mr. Chayne, and I am tremendously grateful.”

Salaman waved a jaunty hand.

“It happened to crop up, Lord Barford—on my way,” he said. “It was quite simple.”

Lord Barford smiled—he was quite young and looked like a man who would be far more at home on a polo pony or a hunter than anywhere else.

Then he looked at Sover and his face hardened.

“Had you anything to do with the recovery of the stones, Sover?”

“Oh, no—on the contrary,” said Salaman.

“Ah! 'On the contrary,' you say, Mr. Chayne? Then you were guilty after all, were you, Sover?”

The jockey's jaw thrust forward.

“What d'yah mean, 'guilty?' I was discharged, wasn't I?” he said impudently. “I'll say this while I'm at it. This man dragged me in here with threats—I believe he's armed or I'd have changed his tactics for him. I know nothing about the rubies.”

His eyes were fixed on Lady Barford.

“At least, nothing. I'll say—unless I'm forced. But I want to warn you, Lord Barford, that I shall be easily forced. I haven't been treated so well by you and Lady Barford that it would give me any heartache or lose me any money if I told the truth about them—and I'm pretty sure that if you guessed the truth you'd be nearer going on your knees to keep me quiet than ringing for your servants to throw me out—as you seem to be intending to do!”

His eyes were on Lady Barford throughout, in a stare of undisguised menace. Both Barford and Salaman saw that—and they saw, too, the deadly pallor which had crept to her face, the strange fear which dilated her eyes.

Salaman spoke, his beard bristling, his eyes and voice aggressive.

“Permit me to advise you both,” he said. “Lady Barford, there are things which sooner or later will have to be told to your husband. Wouldn't you sooner tell him yourself than allow this creature to tell him? He's no longer fit to ride for his living and he intends to try blackmail instead. And you, Lord Barford, wouldn't you prefer to have a—difficult story—an account of a trouble which will call for your sympathy and forgiveness—from your wife's lips rather than from this man's?”

His tone became urgent, his deep voice began to boom, and curiously he seemed to dominate in that room.

“Be advised, both of you—why, you're only a pair of children anyway—but you love each other, I see that. Lady Barford, be courageous, take your husband into the