"You poor little devil!"
That finished me. I'm not used to being pitied. I sobbed and sobbed
as though some dam had broken inside of me. You see, Mag, I knew in
that minute that I'd been afraid, deathly afraid of Fred Obermuller's
face, when it's scornful and sarcastic, and of his voice, when it cuts
the flesh of self-conceit off your very bones. And the contrast--well,
it was too much for me.
But something came quick to sober me.
It was Gray. She stormed in, followed by Lord Harold and Topham, and
half the company.
"The diamond, the rose diamond!" she shrieked. "It's gone! And the
carpenters say that new girl Olden came flying from the direction of my
dressing-room. I'll hold you responsible--"
"Hush-sh!" Obermuller lifted his hands and nodded over toward me.
"Olden!" she squealed. "Grab her, Topham. I'll bet she stole that
diamond, and she can't have got rid of it yet."
Topham jumped toward me, but Obermuller stopped him.
"You'd win only half your bet, my Lady," Obermuller said softly. "She
did get hold of the Gray rose, worth fifty thousand dollars, in spite
of all your precautions--"
The world seemed to fall away from me. I looked up at him. I couldn't
believe he'd go back on me.
"--And she brought it straight to me, as I had asked her to, and
promised to raise her salary if she'd win out. For I knew that unless
I proved to you it could be stolen, you'd never agree to hire a
detective to watch those things, which will get us all into trouble
some day. Here! Scoot out o' this. It's nearly time for your number."
He passed the diamond over to her, and they all left the office.
So did I; but he held out his hand as I passed. "It goes--that about a
raise for you, Olden. Now earn it."
Isn't he white, Mag--white clean through, that big fellow Obermuller?