The Chinese Jewel/Chapter 8

LICE awoke with a start, and for a moment stared up at them in drowsy bewilderment. At uncle Abner's signal for silence, a finger laid across his lips, she remembered and smiled. She glanced at her watch; it was barely one o'clock.

"You'll mark I've delivered the goods, Miss Alice," uncle Abner said in a whisper. “I've got him here according to orders, and no one the wiser, Now if I'm going to keep it from being known I drove up a-tall, I better rustle and take the car off somewheres, bringing it back some time to-morrow.”

Alice's smile, resting on him, warmed in approval.

“You're a brick, uncle Abner,” she whispered back at him. “You are sure none of the servants heard?”

“I made certain. And now I'll mosey?”

She pointed first invitingly to a table, whereon were a jug of milk, cups, and sandwiches. He shook his head, nodded by way of good night, and, his shoes still his hand, withdrew quietly.

Steele remembered his own shoes with a start, and sat down to put them on.

“This room is never used,” Alice told him, speaking guardedly. “Once or twice only, when the house was filled with guests, an extra servant has slept here. You'll overlook the slight, won't you? There's room enough for an enforced prisoner to be comfortable. The bath is there; yonder a smaller room, into which, by the way, we had better go while we talk.”

She led the way, and Steele understood the reason, since obviously secrecy was the chief consideration just now. The room had but the one door through which they had entered; but one window, opening to the back. This was closed. Outside were shutters, drawn; inside a heavy shade; over that, evidently placed by Alice herself, a blanket had been hung. She switched on a light, and Steele understood that all precautions had been taken against its showing without.

Here Alice gave Steele a full account of her evening at Carrington's, which, following her first interview with him, had sufficiently whetted her interest to cause her to invite the several guests to the farm. When she spoke of the jewels, more than hinting at Stephen's tremendous interest in them, and referred to Marvella's own interest, she saw her listener's eyes suddenly narrow speculatively.

“You think,” she demanded, “that it might be Stephen's collection that they are after?”

“Possibly.” And yet he frowned. “Rather, I'd imagine that the collection might be a portion of the desideratum. For King Tom Reagan, when he goes gunning, is always out after big, big game”

“Stephen's jewels must be worth hundreds of thousands!” insisted Alice.

“And Reagan, or I miss my guess, is after millions this time! But we will keep this in mind: Carrington isn't going to bring them up here with him, is he?” he demanded abruptly.

“Ordinarily,” Alice said with a smile, “I'd hardly believe him so foolish. But his new friend, Mrs. Marvella Nevil, certainly has impressed the poor fellow. I gather that she has some rare gem to show him”

“Not the Pride of Burma!”

She looked at him curiously, but nodded.

“The Beauty of Burma, Marvella called it.”

“If she should bring that here!” And for his part he told her all he knew of Kwang-kung and the ducal jewel.

“I have had a busy day,” Alice said when she had heard him out. “I brought a carpenter with me from the city; I dismissed the servants for the day. Come and I'll show you.”

Leaving the door open so that the light straggled on after them into the larger room where the couch and chairs were, she drew back the rug from the floor, Steele's hands aiding when he saw her purpose. A section of the flooring had been sawed out, the loose boards then nailed together in such fashion as to make a trapdoor, readily lifted from its place on the joists. At her signal Steele raised this up. Beneath, between the joists, was the ceiling of the room below. This ceiling was of plaster, papered over. Alice had had the lathing cut away here and there, the plaster carefully removed in places as large as a man's hand. Thus there were spots where only a thin strip of wall paper shut off the lower part of the house.

“The rest I did myself,” she whispered, “after having sent my carpenter back to Troy. If there were lights on in the room below you would understand. I have pricked little holes through the paper.”

He understood in a flash. This was to be his room; here he was to hide without knowledge of any of the other members of the household. And with his own room darkened, whatever went on beneath him he could both see and hear.

“It's the main living room,” explained Alice. “If we give them the chance to get together there, there may be interesting developments. Don't you think so?”

“I think you are a wonder!” he cried warmly.

And Alice, though plainly pleased, said “Sh!” warningly.

“It is a horrible thing,” Alice said, “to invite guests to one's home and then do a thing like this! But the case warrants it, doesn't it, Mr. Steele?”

“You should not ever harbor such a thought,” he assured her heartily. “When you deal with King Reagan you deal with a man who is above neither treachery nor robbery nor murder.” Alice shivered. “A man he set to watch me to-day is Tony Waldron; though it has never been proved on him, it is well known in police circles that he is more than a mere murderer. And when you deal with Marvella Nevil” He shrugged his shoulders. “She has been the death of more than one man's soul. How she retains the sweet, innocent face of hers is, to me, a sheer marvel.”

“There is one other thing,” Alice said after a moment. She pointed to the blanketed window in the adjoining room. “If at any time you should want to slip out without being seen it might be managed through that window. There is a ledge outside; going along it to the right, you come to the roof over the kitchen porch, where it would be easy to get down. And as for your food—I am afraid that if you are cooped up here long you will be ravenous for a good meal. But here,” and she led the way to a cupboard in a corner, “is enough to keep you from starvation.” Within he glimpsed a generous assortment of tins. “And, when there is any chance, I'll try to slip something in to you. I have two keys to the outer door; one I am leaving with you, the other I shall keep.”

“You have thought of everything.”

“I have looked into Marvella's eyes; I have sensed, rather than seen, the sinister character of King Reagan. I have tried to do what I could, Mr. Steele. From now on, I am afraid, I shall be small help. The real work is yours. And now—good night.”

As she had done the other time, she gave him her hand in good-by, the look in the frank, clear eyes one of friendliness. And again, while she was going to the door and out into the darkness of the hallway, he felt an odd thrill.

“If it had been some other case, not one of Carrington in danger,” he mused, standing and looking long at the closed door, “I wonder if she would have taken interest? Or if it's all for Carrington's sake?”

He dreamed that night, and not of King Reagan nor of Marvella.