"Then she may have overlooked something. Why take her word for it? There
may be a card or something there now."
Staff looked startled and chagrined. "That's so. It never occurred to
me. I am a bonehead, and no mistake. I'll just take a look, after we've
run through this play."
"Why wait? Send for it now. I'd like to see for myself, if there is
anything: you see, you've roused a woman's curiosity; I want to know.
Let me send Jane."
Without waiting for his consent, Alison summoned the maid. "Jane," said
she, "I want you to go to Mr. Staff's stateroom--"
"Excuse me," Staff interrupted. "Find the steward named Orde and ask
him for the bandbox I gave him to take care of. Then bring it here,
please."
"Yes, sir," said Jane; and forthwith departed.
"And now--while we're waiting," suggested Alison--"the play, if you
please."
"Not yet," said Staff. "I've something else to talk about that I'd
forgotten. Manvers, the purser--"
"Good Heavens!" Alison interrupted in exasperation. She rose, with a
general movement of extreme annoyance. "Am I never to hear the last of
that man? He's been after me every day, and sometimes twice a day....
He's a personified pest!"
"But he's right, you know," said Staff quietly.
"Right! Right about what?"
"In wanting you to let him take care of that necklace--the
what-you-may-call-it thing--the Cadogan collar."
"How do you know I have it?"
"You admitted as much to Manvers, and Mrs. Ilkington says you have it."
"But why need everybody know about it?"
"Enquire of Mrs. Ilkington. If you wanted the matter kept secret, why in
the sacred name of the great god Publicity did you confide in that queen
of press agents?"
"She had no right to say anything--"
"Granted. So you actually have got that collar with you?"
"Oh, yes," Alison admitted indifferently, "I have it."
"In this room?"
"Of course."
"Then be advised and take no chances."
Alison had been pacing to and fro, impatiently. Now she stopped, looking
down at him without any abatement of her show of temper.
"You're as bad as all the rest," she complained. "I'm a woman grown, in
full possession of my faculties. The collar is perfectly safe in my
care. It's here, in this room, securely locked up."
"But someone might break in while you're out--"
"Either Jane is here all the time, or I am. It's never left to itself a
single instant. It's perfectly ridiculous to suppose we're going to let
anybody rob us of it. Besides, where would a thief go with it, if he did
succeed in stealing it--overboard?"
"I'm willing to risk a small bet he'd manage to hide it so that it would
take the whole ship's company, and a heap of good luck into the bargain,
to find it."
"Well," said the woman defiantly, "I'm not afraid, and I'm not going to
be browbeaten by any scare-cat purser into behaving like a kiddie afraid
of the dark. I'm quite competent to look after my own property, and I
purpose doing so without anybody's supervision. Now let's have that
understood, Staff; and don't you bother me any more about this matter."
"Thanks," said Staff drily; "I fancy you can count on me to know when
I'm asked to mind my own business."
"Oh, I didn't mean that--not that way, dear boy--but--"
At this juncture the maid entered with the bandbox, and Alison broke off
with an exclamation of diverted interest.
"There! Let's say no more about this tiresome jewel business. I'm sure
this is going to prove ever so much more amusing. Open it, Jane,
please."
In another moment the hat was in her hands and both she and Jane were
giving passably good imitations--modified by their respective
personalities--of Milly's awe-smitten admiration of the thing.
Staff was conscious of a sensation of fatigue. Bending over, he drew the
bandbox to him and began to examine the wrappings and wads of
tissue-paper which it still contained.
"It's a perfect dear!" said Miss Landis in accents of the utmost
sincerity.
"Indeed, mum," chimed Jane, antiphonal.
"Whoever your anonymous friend may be, she has exquisite taste."
"Indeed, mum," chanted the chorus.
"May I try it on, Staff?"
"What?" said the young man absently, absorbed in his search. "Oh, yes;
certainly. Help yourself."
Alison moved across to the long mirror set in the door communicating
with her bedroom. Here she paused, carefully adjusting the hat to her
shapely head.
"Now, sir!" she exclaimed, turning.
Staff sat back in his chair and looked his fill of admiration. The hat
might have been designed expressly for no other purpose than to set off
this woman's imperious loveliness: such was the thought eloquent in his
expression.
Satisfied with his dumb tribute, Alison lifted off the hat and deposited
it upon a table.
"Find anything?" she asked lightly.
"Not a word," said he--"not a sign of a clue."
"What a disappointment!" she sighed. "I'm wild to know.... Suppose,"
said she, posing herself before him,--"suppose the owner never did turn
up after all?"
"_Hum_," said Staff, perturbed by such a prospect.
"What would you do with it?"
"_Hum_," said he a second time, non-committal.
"You couldn't wear it yourself; it's hardly an ornament for a bachelor's
study. What _would_ you do with it?"
"I think," said Staff, "I hear my cue to say: I'd give it to the most
beautiful woman alive, of course."
"Thank you, dear," returned Alison serenely. "Don't forget."
She moved back to her chair, humming a little tune almost inaudibly; and
in passing lightly brushed his forehead with her hand--the ghost of a
caress.
"You may go, Jane," said she, sitting down to face her lover; and when
the maid had shut herself out of the room: "Now, dear, read me our
play," said Alison, composing herself to attention.
Staff took up his manuscript and began to read aloud....
Three hours elapsed before he put aside the fourth act and turned
expectantly to Alison.
Elbow on knee and chin in hand, eyes fixed upon his face, she sat as one
entranced, unable still to shake off the spell of his invention: more
lovely, he thought, in this mood of thoughtfulness even than in her
brightest animation.... Then with a little sigh she roused, relaxed her
pose, and sat back, faintly smiling.
"Well?" he asked diffidently. "What do you think?"
"It's splendid," she said with a soft, warm glow of enthusiasm--"simply
splendid. It's coherent, it hangs together from start to finish; you've
got little to learn about construction, my dear. And my part is
magnificent: never have I had such a chance to show what I can do with
comedy. I'm delighted beyond words. But ..." She sighed again, distrait.
"But--?" he repeated anxiously.
"There are one or two minor things," she said with shadowy regret, "that
you will want to change, I think: nothing worth mentioning, nothing
important enough to mar the wonderful cleverness of it all."
"But tell me--?"
"Oh, it's hardly worth talking about, dear boy. Only--there's the
ingenue role; you've given her too much to do; she's on the stage in all
of my biggest scenes, and has business enough in them to spoil my best
effects. Of course, that can be arranged. And then the leading man's
part--I don't want to seem hypercritical, but he's altogether too
clever; you mustn't let him overshadow the heroine the way he does; some
of his business is plainly hers--I can see myself doing it infinitely
better than any leading man we could afford to engage. And those witty
lines you've put into his mouth--I _must_ have them; you won't find it
hard, I'm sure, to twist the lines a bit, so that they come from the
heroine rather than the hero...."
Staff held up a warning hand, and laughed.
"Just a minute, Alison," said he. "Remember this is a play, not a
background for you. And with a play it's much as with matrimony: if
either turns out to be a monologue it's bound to be a failure."
Alison frowned slightly, then forced a laugh, and rose. "You authors are
all alike," she complained, pouting; "I mean, as authors. But I'm not
going to have any trouble with you, dear boy. We'll agree on everything;
I'm going to be reasonable and you've _got_ to be. Besides, we've heaps
of time to talk it over. Now I'm going to change and get up on deck.
Will you wait for me in the saloon, outside? I shan't be ten minutes."
"Will I?" he laughed. "Your only trouble will be to keep me away from
your door, this trip." He gathered up his manuscript and steamer-cap,
then with his hand on the door-knob paused. "Oh, I forgot that blessed
bandbox!"
"Never mind that now," said Alison. "I'll have Jane repack it and take
it back to your steward. Besides, I'm in a hurry, stifling for fresh
air. Just give me twenty minutes...."
She offered him a hand, and he bowed his lips to it; then quietly let
himself out into the alleyway.