"Pretty!" The chuckle with which Crane let that priceless hoard cascade,
clashing, a stream of baleful green fire, into the cupped, eager hands
of its owner, ended the hush which had spellbound the assorted actors.
"Me," he pursued in high contentment, "I'm _convinced_! Now if you'll
slip your wrist-warmers on our little friend here, the dancing yegg,
we'll blow, Hoffmeyer . . . But le's see: I guess Mrs. McFee would just
as leave not treat the neighbours to the sight of a patrol wagon boiling
up to her front door at this time of night to cart this gay bunch
away--it might look sort of funny. So, if it's all right with you, ma'm,
I'll just get your butler to breeze out and rustle a brace of taxis. And
then, folks"--his tolerant regard embraced Mallison, his soi-distant
wife, her counsel, and the disgusted collaborator of this last--"we'll
all go riding round to the House with the Green Lamps in East
Fifty-first."
Neither did argument, expostulation, abuse, and threats more or less
unveiled budge him from adherence to this programme, to which one
prisoner alone entered no objection: in disgrace with Fortune, Mallison
demonstrated at least the wit of silence. Nothing he said was ever to be
used against him at his trial, for he said nothing. What, indeed (he
must have reasoned) was the use? What possible profit to him could
accrue through his protesting that the case against him was a
"frame-up," that Lanyard must wickedly have made him an involuntary
receiver of stolen goods at some time during their struggle? The other
contents of his pockets provided evidence too ruinous as to his
character and secret shop to give such a claim a ghost of a show of
winning evidence.
So Mallison submitted without any murmur; but the attention with which
he enveloped Lanyard to the last left that one in no doubt as to his
mind; and one less self-reliant might well have trembled to think that
next morning at latest would see the man free, "out on bail," with every
facility at his command to further plans for vengeance--else one had
either overrated the power and prestige of Morphew or wronged that one
in crediting him to Mallison in the rôle of patron.
The beck of Folly's head was brusque in deference to which Lanyard found
himself finally closeted with her alone in her study, the temper in
which she shut the door was openly one of direct impatience, his most
disarming smile was wasted on the face she showed him, with its lips
taut, brows level, and eyes uncompromising. To the "Well?" with which
she chose to prompt him in a voice too cool for comfort, Lanyard
returned a deprecating shrug.
"Well enough thus far, if you like; but this is far from the end. . . .
I wonder, is it waste of time to beg a service of you, madame?"
The even brows contracted, his impudence earned the blank demur: "I
don't know whether I ought!"
"After all," he submitted, "madame again has her emeralds . . ."
"And you to thank--I know. But still--!"
"And she retains that intangible something which is worth nothing till
it is lost, I refer to her--as we absurdly say--good name."
"Haven't I proved my appreciation by letting you lie like a . . ."
Folly faltered, at loss for a figure, and Lanyard gravely suggested:
"Like--I trust very truly--a gentleman."
"Well!" The efforts failed that she had been making to re-establish that
poise of impartiality which he had already shaken, she twinkled
outright. "And I loved you for it and lied like a baggage in your
support. Still, I think you owe me something more . . ."
"The explanation which I am as ready to make as you are to hear it, but
a strange story--"
"I can imagine."
"Forgive me if I doubt that . . . A story so strange it will hardly seem
credible without the testimony of one little likely to be suspected of
bias in my favour, I mean Monsieur Morphew--"
"Morphew!"
Lanyard pretended not to know he had managed to stagger her a second
time: "If you would be so gracious as to telephone the good man--one
assumes you know his number--"
"But Morphy's _never_ at home in the evening."
"Nevertheless I venture to prophesy he will be found at home this
evening, and not far from the telephone, either--providing you call him
without too much delay."
"Morphew?" Folly re-echoed as if she mistrusted her ears.
"You are such great friends, he won't think it strange if you turn to
him for friendly offices in your distress--"
"But I'm not in any distress."
"Precisely there is the favour I would beg of you, madame; to make
believe you are, to tell Monsieur Morphew that something so disturbing
has just happened, you can not rest without his advice. If you will do
that, I think you will find him more than willing to oblige you, to wait
on you here with all possible expedition."
"But what on earth--!"
"That I will make clear when you have telephoned. If you put it off
until the Mallison lot is permitted to call in counsel and arrange for
bondsmen, you won't catch Monsieur Morphew at home."
Lanyard endured gracefully the probe of mistrustful eyes, only a
whimsical twitch of lips reminded Folly at length of his exemplary
patience; whereupon she did a good descriptive bit with pretty shoulders
and plumped herself down at the telephone.
Committing to memory the number she gave the Central operator, Lanyard
saw the woman start when the voice that responded bore out his
prediction that Morphew would be found anomalously at home, this night
of all nights. But the ability of an excellent amateur actress which
Folly had once before proved to Lanyard's delight this time again stood
her in good stead, he was fain to admit he himself might have been taken
in by the ring of sincerity in her tremulous accents.
"Is that you, _really_, Morphy? Oh, I'm so glad! . . . Something
terrible has happened, Morphy. Please don't ask questions now, I don't
want to talk about it over the wire; but if you can possibly spare a
minute, come around and give me your advice. You're the wisest man I
know, and I'm in a peck of trouble, half out of my mind with worry . . .
How perfectly sweet of you! Yes: as soon as you can, I'll be waiting so
anxiously . . ."
Without rising, Folly swung round and mutely challenged Lanyard to make
good his promise. But he merely bowed the bow that signifies "Thank you
very much."
"Morphy says he'll come this minute."
"Figure to yourself, madame, one can with difficulty constrain oneself
to wait."
"That's no fair." Folly got up with a flounce. "You're not telling me
anything."
"There is so little time--and one feels sure madame will need all of it
if she means to remedy what one may, without intending an impertinence,
be permitted to term the quite too delightful unconventionality of her
attire."