"What Does it Mean?"
The night of the Easter Ball--the event of the year at Avonham.
The Countess of Cantyre, on her way to the scene of action, looked in
on Miss Violet Forster. That young lady, apparently already fully
equipped, seated in an arm-chair, was studying what seemed to be a
small memorandum book. She looked up as the Countess entered. Her
ladyship came well into the centre of the room, drew herself to her
full height, which was less than she would have liked it to be, and
slowly revolved in a complete circle, by way of exhibiting her plumes
for the lady's inspection. When she had made an end, she prompted the
criticism which did not come.
"Well?"
"Excellent."
"You think I shall do?"
"Margaret, you're a dream of delight."
"You really think so? You like the dress? I was afraid there was a
little too much on the bodice."
"There is nothing anywhere which could be altered in the slightest
degree for the better; the gown and the wearer are perfectly matched:
they are both lovely."
Her ladyship dropped a curtsy.
"Thank you, that's just what I wanted you to say. Now you stand up, and
I'll give you my candid opinion."
"Very much obliged, but I'm not sure that I want it; I'm not the
Countess of Cantyre. Who cares what I look like?"
"You little humbug! It's only your conceit; it's simply that you take
it for granted that you always look your best, which couldn't be
improved." Her ladyship was arranging the drapery of her skirt as she
glanced in the mirror. "What have you got out of Noel Draycott?"
"Nothing, as yet. I haven't tried; but I shall. I mean to drop a bomb
at his feet at the moment he least expects it."
"If it's to be to-night, don't let it go off with too loud a bang. I
don't know if I told you that the whole regiment has decided to come.
They telegraphed this afternoon that they would all be able to get off,
as I understand, to a man. You'll have a chance of dropping a bombshell
at the feet of every one of them."
"I should like to. Every time I look at Mr. Noel Draycott I feel--I
can't tell you what I feel."
"Any news of the absentee?"
"None; but I'm beginning to dream of him again."
"You'd better be careful what you have for dinner; eat nothing for at
least three hours before you go to bed."
"Last night I dreamt that he was starving; and to save himself from
starving he was doing something so awful that it woke me up, and I lay
wide awake, trembling with terror."
"You poor child! You may congratulate yourself that it was a dream. Are
you coming? I must be off."
"I'll follow in a minute or two; don't you wait for me."
Left alone, the girl tried to resume her study of the small volume she
was holding; but the effort seemed in vain. Her eyes refused to be
fixed upon the page; they stared into vacancy at something which was
not there. She rose; placing the little book in a leather case which
stood upon the dressing-table, she pressed down the lid, which shut
with a spring.
"It's very odd, but I seem to feel that something is going to happen
to-night; I wonder what it is?"
There was a tapping at the door; a maid came in. She advanced towards
the girl with something held out in her hand.
"Excuse me, Miss Forster, but is this yours?"
It was a locket, attached to a slender gold chain. The girl looked
round quickly; she made as if to open the box she had just now shut.
Then she said:
"I don't think it can be mine, but it resembles one I have; please let
me look at it."
She took the locket and examined it closely. As she did so her face
changed, as if something had startled her. She looked at the maid, with
in her eyes what might almost have been a look of fear. Then, turning
her back, as if to hide the agitation which she could not help but
feel, she touched a spring; the locket came open. At the sight of what
was within she broke into a sudden exclamation; she swung right round
again. There was no doubt that something had startled her now; the
blood had come into her cheeks, her eyes were wide open, she trembled.
"Where did you get this?" she cried.
"If you please, miss, I found it on the floor outside your room. I was
coming along and I saw it lying there, and it was so close to your door
that I thought you might have dropped it."
"When was this? When did you see it there?"
"A moment ago, miss; as soon as I had picked it up, I knocked at your
door."
"But it's inconceivable, incredible! It certainly wasn't there just now
when Lady Cantyre went out."
"That I can't say, miss; I didn't see her ladyship."
"But if it had been there she would have seen it." The girl moved a
step closer. "Who are you?"
The maid seemed as if she did not know what to make of Miss Forster's
manner, which was peculiar; so peculiar that it might almost have been
described as threatening.
"Me, miss? I'm Simmons."
Miss Forster was silent, not, it would seem, because she had nothing to
say, but because she had so much that she didn't know how to say it.
All at once she moved towards the door of the room.
"Come here; now show me, please, exactly where you found this locket,
the very spot."
Opening the door, she allowed the maid to precede her into the passage.
As if, as was only natural, disconcerted by the young lady's manner,
the maid did what was required. She pointed to the floor.
"I can't, of course, miss, say which was the exact spot--nobody could;
but I should say, as near as possible, it was just there."
"Then Lady Cantyre must have seen it as she went out; if she had she
would have brought it to me; she would have done something."
"As to that, miss, I cannot speak."
"You say that your name is Simmons?"
"Yes, miss, Jane Simmons."
"Have you been here long?"
"No, miss; I'm one of the new servants who came in just before Easter
when the family returned from town."
"What made you think that the locket had anything to do with me?"
"I didn't, miss. I didn't think anything at all about it; there was the
locket and there was your door. I thought that someone who was the
other side of the door might have something to do with the locket. I
didn't know that you were in your room, miss; I thought that you might
have dropped it going out."
"There's something about this that I don't understand; but, for the
present, that will do. I may have some questions to put to you later,
Jane Simmons. You can go; when I've spoken to Lady Cantyre, you will
probably hear from me again."
Violet Forster, back in her room, stared at the locket as if it were
some strange, terrible mystery; which to her, in a sense, it was.
"My locket; the one I gave him; the double of the one he gave me."
Unlocking the leather case which stood upon the dressing-table--from
what was perhaps intended to be a secret receptacle at the bottom, she
took a locket which was attached to a slender gold chain, comparing it
with the one the maid had brought.
"It's my locket--there are my initials--my portrait inside; they are a
pair--only I'm in one and he's in the other. He told me that mine
should never leave him; that if it wasn't about his neck, it would
always be somewhere about his person; how came it to be there, where
that woman said it was? Is this the something which I felt was going to
happen? What does it mean? Is it a message? From whom?--from him? I
feel--I feel--Sydney, where are you?"
She swung suddenly round, gazing round the brightly lighted room with
startled, staring eyes, as if she did not know for what she was
looking. Then she caught sight of something which was lying on the
floor almost at her feet.
"What's that?" She picked it up. "Where did that come from? Surely it
was not there just now; what--what does it all mean?"
It was an envelope which she had picked up from the carpet; she was
holding it gingerly between her finger and thumb as if it were some
dangerous thing.
"What's written on it? 'Sydney Beaton's card'--what! There's something
inside it." Tearing it open, she took out what it contained. "It's a
playing-card, the ace of clubs. What does it mean?"