The girls were dressing for the tennis tournament. The games were to
begin at noon, and continue until six o'clock. Three hours later the
annual tennis ball took place at the Casino.
"You know, Ruth," said Bab, fixing a pin in her friend's collar, as they
stood before the mirror, "that the really most important thing in our
whole stay at Newport is your winning the silver cup in the tournament
to-day."
"Oh!" cried Ruth. "Don't be quite so energetic, Bab. You jabbed that pin
right into my neck. I believe I am going to win. I can't imagine a good
soldier going into battle with the idea that he is going to be beaten.
Why, an idea like that would take all the fight out of a man, or a girl
either, for that matter. No, Hugh and I are going to do everything we
possibly can to come out winners. But, if we do, Bab, Hugh and I will
think we owe it to you and Ralph. You have been such trumps about
keeping us up to the mark with your fine playing."
"Nonsense, Ruth!" retorted Bab, decidedly. "All Ralph and I ask this
afternoon is a chance to do some shouting for the winners. What time is
the tourney on for the 'eighteen-year-olds'?"
"Just after lunch; about two o'clock, I believe. Bab, are you nervous
about to-night?" Ruth asked. "Do you think there is going to be a scene
at the ball? The detectives will be watching Mr. Townsend closely. They
suspect that he means to make another big attempt, don't they?"
"I really don't know, Ruth," Barbara answered. "I had a short note from
Mr. Burton this morning. I meant to show it to you, but I did not have a
chance. It simply said: 'Thanks. The game is ours. Keep a sharp
lookout!' But I want to forget the whole burglary business to-day.
Tennis is the only really important thing. Hurrah for Miss Ruth Stuart,
the famous girl champion!" cried Barbara, then suddenly sobered down.
The two girls had been in the wildest spirits all day. Indeed, Miss
Sallie had sent them into the same room to dress, in order to get rid of
them.
"What is the matter, Bab?" said Ruth, turning round to look into her
friend's face.
"I've a confession to make to you. In my heart of hearts, way down
underneath, I am kind of sneakingly sorry for Harry Townsend. I know he
is a rogue and everything that's wicked. When I think of him in that way
I am not sorry for him a bit. Then the thought comes of the man who has
been around with us for weeks, playing tennis with us and going to our
parties, and I can't quite take it in."
"I know just what you mean, Bab," replied Ruth, reflectively. "Don't you
think it must be the same idea as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Everyone has
a good and a bad side. We can't help being sorry for the good part of a
person, when the evil gets ahead of it. But, then, you and I have never
really liked even the good side of Harry Townsend much. So I wonder why
we both feel sorry."
"It's the woman in us, I suppose," sighed Bab.
"Ruth, come in here and let me see how you look," called Miss Sallie.
She had sent up to New York for a special tennis costume for Ruth. The
suit was a light-weight white serge skirt with an embroidered blouse of
handkerchief linen, and the only color was Ruth's pale blue necktie and
the snood on her hair, which was carefully braided and securely fastened
to the back of her head.
Gowns were an important part of tournament days; indeed, the New York
Horse Show seldom shows more elaborate dressing than does the annual
tennis tournament at the Newport Casino.
Mollie and Barbara were the proud owners of two new gowns made by their
mother for this special occasion. Bab's frock was a simple yellow
dimity, and she wore a big white hat with a wreath of yellow roses round
it.
"You're a baby blue, Mollie, aren't you?" asked Grace standing and
admiring her little friend. Grace had on a lingerie frock of lavender
muslin and lace, and a big hat trimmed in lavender plumes.
"Well," said Mollie, making her a low bow, "lucky am I to be dressed in
blue, if it means I may sit near so lovely a person as you. Fortunately,
lavender and blue make a pretty color combination."
Miss Stuart had a box for the tennis tournament.
When she and the girls entered it, they found it nearly filled with
roses. There were no cards except a single one inscribed: "For the
Automobile Girls," for Miss Sallie was as much an automobile girl as any
of the others. The girls selected the bunches of flowers that seemed
most suited to their costumes. Miss Sallie and Grace immediately decided
on the white roses, Mollie chose the pink ones, looking in her pale blue
dress and hat like a little Dresden shepherdess.
In some one's garden a yellow rose bush of the old-fashioned kind must
have bloomed for Bab. "Why!" uttered Miss Sallie, holding up Bab's
flowers, from which streamed a long yellow satin bow, "I have not seen
these little yellow garden roses since I was a girl. See how they open
out their hearts to everyone! Is that like you, Bab? Be careful how you
hold them," teased Miss Sallie; "they have a few thorns underneath, and
must be gently handled."
Ruth half suspected Hugh had been the anonymous giver of the flowers, as
soon as she discovered her own bunch. They formed a big ball of pale
blue hydrangeas, tied with Ruth's especial shade of blue ribbon.
"See!" said Ruth, laughing, and holding them up for the other girls to
admire. "Hugh was not discouraged by the fact that blue flowers are so
hard to find. I wouldn't have dreamed that hydrangeas could look so
lovely, except on the bush."
Ruth sat in the front of the box, waiting for her name to be called for
her tennis match. She was one of the most popular visitors in Newport;
nearly everyone who passed her box stopped to wish good luck to her and
to Hugh.
"I have seen a good many sights, in my day," said Miss Sallie, gazing
around through her lorgnette, "but never one more beautiful than this."
The grass of the wide lawns was so perfectly trimmed that it looked like
a carpet of moss. Over the green there swept a crowd of laughing, happy
people, the women in frocks of every delicate color. Even the sober note
that men's clothes generally make in a gay throng was missing to-day,
for the boys, young and old, wore white flannels and light shirts that
rivaled the dresses of the girls in the brightness of their hues.
Tier upon tier of seats rose up around the tennis courts; before the
first game was called every one was filled.
"Give me my smelling salts, Grace," said Miss Sallie, when Ruth and Hugh
were called out to commence their game. "I shall not look at them until
the set is over."
"O Miss Sallie!" declared Ralph, who had quietly slipped into Ruth's
place next Barbara. "I am ashamed of you for not having more courage. I
am certain they will win. We shall have two silver cups in this box in
the next hour or so."
Over the heads of the great crowd Barbara could see the Countess
Bertouche. She was standing near Mr. and Mrs. Erwin's box, in which sat
Governor and Mrs. Post, Gladys and Harry Townsend.
For the first time in her acquaintance with them, Barbara saw Harry
Townsend leave his seat and walk across the lawn with the countess.
Evidently she had made some request of him. Not far off Barbara could
also see a tall, blond man, with a curly, light mustache, who followed
the pair with his eyes and then moved nonchalantly in their direction.
But Harry Townsend was back with his friends in a minute. He had only
taken the countess to her place, so that she need not be alone in the
crowd.
Ruth and Hugh were easy winners. They had no such tennis battle as they
fought the day they earned the right to represent their crowd over the
heads of Ralph and Barbara.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted the crowd.
Ruth and Hugh were standing near each other in front of the judges'
stand, where the prizes were awarded.
With a low bow, Mr. Cartwright presented Ruth with a beautiful silver
cup and to Hugh another of the same kind. On the outside of each cup was
engraved a design of two racquets crossing each other, with the word
"champion" below.
Barbara and Ruth had given up all their interest and thought to the
tennis match during the day; but Ruth having won her cup, both girls'
minds turned to the jewel robbery.
Except for the note Bab had received in the morning, she had had no sign
nor signal from the two detectives. The Countess Bertouche, apparently
as calm and undisturbed as any of the other guests, had been an
interested watcher of the tournament.
The girls were late in arriving at the ball. Miss Stuart had insisted on
their resting an hour after dinner, and the affair was in full swing
when they entered the beautiful Casino ballroom.
"You're just in time for the barn dance, all of you," called Mrs.
Cartwright. "We are going to be informal for the next half hour, at
least. Come, Ruth, I insist on you and Hugh leading off. You are our
special tennis champions. Wasn't it hard luck that I didn't win, when my
husband was a judge?"
"Miss Thurston," said Harry Townsend, turning suddenly to Barbara,
"won't you dance with me?"
Barbara's hands turned cold as ice and her cheeks suddenly flamed. She
hated to dance with a man whom she knew to be of the character of Harry
Townsend. Yet how could she refuse?
He looked at her coolly, and Bab saw a mocking smile curl the corners of
his lips. But he was as smooth and courteous as usual.
"He is the prince of actors," thought Bab. "I was a goose to let him see
how I felt. I will show him that I know how to act as well as he does,
when I am forced to it."
Barbara accepted the invitation quietly. They took their places with the
two long rows of dancers extending down the whole length of the great
ballroom.
The barn dance, with its merry, unconventional movement, its swinging
music and grace, was generally the greatest joy to Bab. But tonight, in
spite of her pretense at acting, her feet lagged. She dared not look
into the face of her partner. He was as gay and debonair as usual.
When the dance was over, Townsend asked Bab to walk out on the lawn with
him.
As Ruth saw Harry and Barbara walk out at the door, she turned suddenly
to the stranger with whom she was talking. "Will you," she said to him,
"tell Ralph Ewing I would like to speak to him at once? I want to tell
him something that is very important. Please forgive my asking you, but
I must see him. I will wait right here until you find him." It was
five--ten minutes, before Ralph was found.
Harry Townsend meant to discover what Barbara Thurston knew. She was a
young girl, still at school. He was a man approaching thirty, with a
record behind him of nearly ten years of successful villainy.
Would Barbara betray herself? Would she "give the game away?"
"Miss Thurston," began Harry Townsend, politely, "as I shall be going
away from Newport very soon, I want to have a talk with you. I must
confess, that, since the night of Mrs. Erwin's ball, I have been very
angry with you. No high-minded man could endure the suggestion you made
against my honor, when you asked Hugh Post to search me, so soon after
his mother's jewels had disappeared. But time has passed, and I do not
now feel so wounded. Before I go away, would you mind telling me why you
made such an accusation against me?"
"Mr. Townsend," said Barbara, biting her lips, but keeping cool and
collected, "is it necessary for you to ask me why I made such an
accusation? If it is, then, I beg your pardon. The jewels were not in
your possession, certainly, when the search was made. I own I was most
unwise."
"Then you withdraw the accusation?" Townsend was puzzled. He had
expected Barbara to defy him, to insist he had stolen the jewels, that
she had seen him in the act of doing it. He was wise enough to know
that, if he could once make her angry, she would betray what she knew.
He had still to discover who the gypsy was that had so strangely
revealed to him her knowledge of his crimes.
Barbara's heart was beating like a sledgehammer.
There was a slight movement in the nearby shrubbery. Harry Townsend
wheeled like a flash. Barbara turned at the same instant. It was only a
stranger who had wandered across the lawn and mistaken the path, but
Barbara knew that his presence there meant eternal vigilance.
"O Mr. Townsend," she said, "the music is commencing. I would rather
return to the ballroom. I have an engagement for this dance."
Harry Townsend realized he must manage to entice Barbara to a more
secluded part of the Casino grounds before he could have a satisfactory
talk with her.
"No," he said, "we will not go back yet, I want to talk to you. We must
understand each other better, before the night is over. Come!" He spoke
in a voice as cold and hard as ice and took Barbara by the wrist.
Barbara could not jerk away or call for help. She decided it was best to
follow him.
"You are not running away, are you, Miss Thurston?" It was Ralph's voice
calling. "I am sure Mr. Townsend will excuse you, as you have a previous
engagement with me."
"Oh, certainly," said Harry Townsend, pleasantly, "sorry as I am to lose
Miss Thurston's society." As Barbara and Ralph walked away, he bit his
lips savagely. Then he decided to follow the tall man he had seen moving
about in the shrubbery. It might be that the man suspected something.
But Townsend found him ten minutes later in the smoking-room, quietly
moving around among the men.
"Bab," Ruth had a chance to whisper to her later in the evening, "is it
all right with you? I was desperately frightened when I saw you
disappear outside with Harry Townsend. Have you noticed something?"
"What?" said Bab, gazing searchingly about her.
"Only," Ruth answered, "that the Countess Bertouche is not here this
evening."
Both realized that the first card in the game had been played.