Barbara's suspicion was now a certainty. Another person might not have
been much wiser from Harry Townsend's behavior during the telling of his
fortune. But Barbara's eyes were keen. The thief the detectives were
seeking, the "Raffles" who was bowing and smiling his way through
Newport society was none other than "Harry Townsend." How to prove it?
That was another matter.
"Bab," said the other girls, appearing on her side of the tent, "what a
string of nonsense you did put off on poor Harry Townsend. What on earth
made you tell him about a butterfly and a snake? I suppose you had
butterfly on the brain, since we had just told you of the robbery."
"That is true," assented Bab.
"Ruth!" Barbara turned to her quickly. "I am tired of my job. I want to
quit this fortune-telling business at once. Let's desert and go up to
Mrs. Cartwright's room and change our clothes. Do hurry!" she urged, a
little impatiently.
"Oh, all right, Bab," Ruth agreed. She stared at Barbara curiously. What
had come over her friend? Harry Townsend always seemed to have such a
strange effect upon her.
Barbara was thinking. How could she find the detectives, to tell them of
her suspicions, while Harry Townsend still had in his pocket the jewel
he had stolen?
"I want to ask you something, Mollie," Bab announced, as the girls
started for the house. "You'll excuse a family secret, won't you?" she
asked of Grace and Ruth. "Mollie," Bab whispered, "don't speak out loud.
Do you think you can discover who the two detectives are, and let me
know as soon as I come downstairs? Don't ask questions, please; only, I
must know."
Mollie shut her lips close together. "Yes, I'll find out for you," she
promised.
Half an hour later, as the guests were being served with supper under
the trees, Ruth and Barbara made their appearance.
"We just couldn't keep away any longer," they explained to their
friends. "Oh, yes, we are feeling perfectly well again."
Barbara called Mrs. Cartwright aside for a minute. "Is it true," she
asked, "that your diamond butterfly has disappeared?"
Mrs. Cartwright's face clouded. "Yes," she replied. "It has gone within
the last hour or so. I had it fastened here on my dress with a long pin.
If it was stolen by a guest, which I am coming to believe, then it was
not such a difficult theft. I have been leaning over, laughing and
talking, and any light-fingered--woman--or man--could easily have taken it
out of my dress."
Mrs. Cartwright shivered and turned pale, as she looked at the gay
parties of people out on her lawn. "Isn't it dreadful," she said,
plaintively, "to think that there may be a thief right over there among
all my friends! But run along, now, child, and enjoy yourself. You and
Ruth were the success of the afternoon. Everyone has asked me where I
found my clever gypsies."
Barbara wandered off alone. Before she had gone more than a few steps,
Ralph Ewing joined her. "Please don't come with me, Ralph," she begged.
"I want to find Mollie."
"Well, why should that prevent my coming along, too?" Ralph asked. "I'd
like to find Mollie myself. She hasn't paid the slightest attention to
me all afternoon."
"I don't want to be horrid, Ralph," Barbara protested, nervously, "but
please let me find her by myself."
"Oh, certainly," assented Ralph, walking quickly away.
Over by one of the lemonade stands that had been deserted at supper time
Bab found Mollie.
"Bab," she said, pulling her sister to one side, "do you see that tall,
blond man, with the little, curly mustache? He is one of the detectives.
I can't find out where the other one is."
A little later Ralph Ewing, who was still strolling around by himself,
felt his face flush, partly with wounded pride, partly with anger.
Barbara was not talking to Mollie. She was standing some distance off
from the other guests, having an earnest conversation with a man whom
Ralph knew to be a stranger in Newport.
Ralph was too proud to linger near them, since Bab had said so plainly
she wanted none of his society. If he could have heard what she was
saying he would have been even more horrified.
"Yes," Barbara promised, "if you will come somewhere near us, when we
are all together, this evening, I will give you a signal to show you the
man I mean. His name is Townsend. He looks very young, is slender and is
of medium height. Suppose, when you see us, I bow my head slowly in the
direction of the man I mean? If you understand me, you can return my
bow. Can you search him before he leaves the grounds?"
"No, miss." The detective shook his head. "It would be impossible. He
hasn't the jewel on him now. If he's the man we think he is, he is too
smooth for that. He must have a confederate. If we search him here, and
find no proof of his guilt, he will know all about us and our
suspicions. Can't you see, then, he would just clear out and leave us
here to whistle for our pains?"
"Yes, I see," said Bab.
"Thank you, miss, for telling us," the detective continued. "I must say
that emerald story sounds like the real thing. You've only guessed about
the butterfly theft; but I think you've guessed right. Now we must go
easy. If there is a Raffles, here in Newport, he is out for more
plunder. He'll make another bold attempt, and that will be our chance."
"Well, I must go on back now to my friends," murmured Barbara, uneasily.
It seemed strange to be taken into confidence by the detective, as
though she were in the same line of business. "I suppose you and the
other detective can manage, now, to secure the thief. I would rather not
have anything more to do with the matter." Barbara gave a little shiver
of repulsion.
"Oh, now, young lady," protested the detective, "you mustn't go back on
us, just as the game commences. To catch a society thief we must have
help from the inside. The best detective in the service can't get on
without it."
"Where have you been, Bab?" inquired Miss Sallie, anxiously, when
Barbara joined her friends a few minutes later. "I was beginning to get
uneasy about you. Mrs. Cartwright wants us to come into the house for an
informal dance. Do you feel well enough to go? I don't think you look
very well, child."
Harry Townsend and Gladys came up at this minute. Harry had promised to
take Miss Stuart indoors to watch the dancing. There was a curious,
restless look in the man's eyes, but his manners were as charming as
ever.
This was Barbara's chance. She lagged behind the others, and bowed her
head slowly in the direction of Miss Sallie's escort. A strange, blond
man, with a curly light mustache, standing some distance off, returned
her bow.
All evening Ralph did not come near Barbara. He devoted himself to
Grace, who was wise enough to guess that Bab and Ralph must have had a
quarrel. But Barbara did not understand. Not having realized that Ralph
had felt snubbed when she dismissed him a little while before, she
supposed he had grown tired of her.
To tell the truth, Barbara was dull. All the merry, sparkling fun had
gone out of her for this one evening. Whether she danced, or talked or
rested quietly, she saw Harry Townsend's face as it had looked at her
for a single minute in the gypsy tent. "I am not a coward," thought
Barbara, "but I shall have to be careful if he discovers I was the gypsy
who told his fortune this afternoon."
Barbara was right.
Harry Townsend knew there was just one person in Newport who suspected
him of being a thief; this person must be put out of the way. The fine
Raffles preferred not to use violence, but at any cost he must win.
Harry Townsend had not recognized Bab in the gypsy tent, which served,
for the time, to avert his suspicions from her. He believed she had only
arrived, when he met her with Miss Stuart late in the evening. Then who
was the gypsy? Either Barbara had seen her, some time in the afternoon,
and told her the story of the necklace, or there was some one else who
believed he had had a part in the robberies. He must find out.
"Gladys," Harry Townsend said, "don't let us dance all evening. I have
not had any kind of chance to talk to you alone. Come out on the veranda
with me, won't you?"
Gladys and Harry seated themselves on the front porch, whence they could
look through an open window at the dancers.
"Do you know Mrs. Cartwright very intimately, Gladys?" inquired Mr.
Townsend.
"Oh, no," returned Gladys, pettishly. If Harry Townsend had brought her
out on the veranda to talk about Mrs. Cartwright, then she might as well
have stayed indoors. "Why do you ask?"
Harry Townsend frowned, then put his hands before his eyes. Gladys was
so silly. She had served to introduce him to her friends at Newport.
Now, if he could only make her useful in other ways!
"Are you angry?" Gladys asked after a moment, "What is it that you want
to know about Mrs. Cartwright?"
"Oh, I don't want to know anything about Mrs. Cartwright at all, Gladys.
I am sorry I spoke of it, if the subject offends you. But I did feel a
little curious to know where she got hold of the gypsies she had in the
tent this afternoon. I thought you would be interested."
"I am interested, Harry," declared Gladys. She was only a spoiled child,
and could not help showing it. "But I am not a favorite of Mrs.
Cartwright's. It's my delightful cousins that she adores--Mollie and Bab.
I can ask one of them to inquire."
"Oh, no," drawled Harry, "it is not of enough importance for that."
For the next half hour Harry devoted himself to the whims of Gladys. He
could see Barbara through the window, looking pale and tired. This gave
all the more reason for believing that she had not recovered from the
shock of her experience on the cliffs.
The cleverest man will sometimes make a false move. Harry Townsend was
tired of Gladys, weary of her whims and foolishness. Besides, she had
served his purpose; he was almost through with her.
"Shall we take a walk, Gladys?" he asked.
As they walked down the path toward the cliff, this up-to-date Raffles,
whose fingers were more agile than a magician's, pressed Gladys's hand
for a moment. At the same instant, he slipped her jeweled bracelet into
his pocket. "I don't want the bauble," he said to himself, "but she
might as well be punished for not doing what I ask her."
At the same moment a blond man stepped out from among the bushes and
asked Harry for a light for his cigarette.
Miss Stuart and her girls were saying good-night to Mrs. Cartwright.
Hugh Post and Ralph were to escort them home. As Barbara came down the
steps with her wraps on, some one touched her on the arm.
"Miss," the detective whispered, "I know the man you pointed out to me;
but I have got to see you again. Tell me how we can manage it."
"Oh," said Barbara, hopelessly, "I don't know. Miss Sallie will be so
angry!"
"You can't quit us now," the detective urged. "Why not come out in the
morning, before any of your folks are up."
"Yes," agreed Barbara, quickly. She didn't have time to refuse. Miss
Sallie was coming toward her, and looked in surprise at Barbara's
strange companion. "Come on, child," she said, "it is time you and Ruth
were both in bed."
"Down the street, two turnings to the right," Barbara heard a voice
behind her whisper, as she turned away.
Gladys was crying, as she made her way to Miss Stuart for comfort. "Miss
Stuart," she said, "I have lost my pearl bracelet. Mother told me it was
too handsome for me to wear. Now she'll be angry with me. I didn't think
it mattered if I wore it this one time. It was large, I suppose, and it
slipped off my hand somewhere."
"Never mind, Gladys," advised Harry Townsend, coming up to her. "If it
is stolen, the thief is sure to be caught."
"Why do you stare at us so, Barbara?" demanded Gladys, angrily. "I am
sure you look all eyes."
"I beg your pardon," murmured Barbara.