Daniel Killigrew, of Killigrew and Company (sugar, coffee and spices),
was in a towering rage; at least, he towered one inch above his normal
height, which was five feet six. Like an animal recently taken in
captivity he trotted back and forth through the corridors, in and out
of the office, to and from the several entrances, blowing the while
like a grampus. All he could get out of these infernally stupid beings
was "Really, sir!" He couldn't get a cab, he couldn't get a motor, he
couldn't get anything. Manager, head-clerk, porter, doorman and page,
he told them, one and all, what a dotty old spoof of a country they
lived in; that they were all dead-alive persons, fit to be neither
under nor above earth; that they wouldn't be one-two in a race with
January molasses--"Treacle, I believe you call it here!" And what did
they say to this scathing arraignment? Yes, what did they say?
"Really, sir!" He knew and hoped it would happen: if ever Germany
started war, it would be over before these Britishers made up their
minds that there was a war. A hundred years ago they had beaten
Napoleon (with the assistance of Spain, Austria, Germany and Russia),
and were now resting.
Quarter to one, and neither wife nor daughter; outside there, somewhere
in the fog; and he could not go to them. It was maddening. Molly
might be arrested and Kitty lost. Served him right; he should have put
his foot down. The idea of Molly being allowed to go with those
rattle-pated women! Suffragettes! A "Bah!" exploded with a loud
report. Hereafter he would show who voted in the Killigrew family.
Poor man! He was made of that unhappy mental timber which agrees
thoughtlessly to a proposition for the sake of peace and then regrets
it in the name of war. His wife and daughter twisted him round their
little fingers and then hunted cover when he found out what they had
done.
He went out again to the main entrance and smoked himself headachy. He
hated London. He had always hated it in theory, now he hated it in
fact. He hated tea, buttered muffins, marmalade, jam, toast, cricket,
box hedges three hundred years old, ruins, and the checkless baggage
system, the wet blankets called newspapers. All the racial hatred of
his forebears (Tipperary born) surged hot and wrathful in his veins.
At the drop of a hat he would have gone to war, individually, with all
England. "Really, sir!" Nothing but that, when he was dying of
anxiety!
A taxicab drew up before the canopy. He knew it was a taxicab because
he could hear the sound of the panting engine. The curb-end of the
canopy was curtained by the abominable fog. Mistily a forlorn figure
emerged. The doorman started leisurely toward this figure. Killigrew
pushed him aside violently. Molly, with her hat gone, her hair awry,
her dress torn, her gloves ragged, her eyes puffed! He sprang toward
her, filled with Berserker rage. Who had dared.
"Give the man five pounds," she whispered. "I promised it."
"Five. . . ."
"Give it to him! Good heavens, do I look as if I were joking? Pay
him, pay him!"
Killigrew counted out five sovereigns, perhaps six, he was not sure.
The chauffeur swooped them up, and set off.
"Molly Killigrew. . . ."
"Not a word till I get to the rooms. Hurry! Daniel, if you say
anything I shall fall down!"
He led her to the lift. Curious glances followed, but these signified
nothing. On a night such as this was there would be any number of
accidents. Once in the living-room of the luxurious suite, Mrs.
Killigrew staggered over to the divan and tumbled down upon it. She
began to cry hysterically.
"Molly, old girl! Molly!" He put his arm tenderly across her heaving
shoulders and kneeled. His old girl! Love crowded out all other
thoughts. Money-mad he might be, but he never forgot that Molly had
once fried his meat and peeled his potatoes and darned his socks.
"Molly, what has happened? Who did this? Tell me, and I'll kill him!"
"Dan, when they started up the street for the prime minister's house, I
could not get out of the crowd. I was afraid to. It was so foggy you
had to follow the torches. I did not know what they were about till
the police rushed us. One grabbed me, but I got away." All this
between sobs. "Dan, I don't want to be a suffragette." Sob. "I don't
want to vote." Sob.
And for the first time that night Killigrew smiled.
"Where's Kitty?"
He started to his feet. "She hasn't got back from the opera yet.
She'll be the death of me, one of these fine days. You know her. Like
as not she's stepped out of her cab to see what's going on, and has
lost herself."
"But the Crawfords were with her."
"Would that make any difference with Kitty if she wanted to get out? I
told her not to wear any jewels, but she wouldn't mind me. She never
does. I haven't any authority except in my offices. You and
Kitty. . . ."
"Don't scold!"
"All right; I won't. But, all the same, you and the girl need
checking."
"Daniel, it was only because I wanted something to occupy myself with.
It's no fun for me to sit still in my house and watch everybody else
work. The butler orders the meals, the housekeeper takes charge of the
linen, the footman the carriages. Why, I can't find a button to sew on
anything any more. I only wanted something to do."
Killigrew did not smile this time. Here was the whole matter in a
nutshell: she wanted something to do. And there were thousands of
others just like her. Man-like, he forgot that women needed something
more than money and attention from an army of servants. He had his
offices, his stock-ticker, his warfare. Not because she wanted to
vote, but because she wanted and needed something to do.
"Molly, old girl, I begin to see. I'm going to finance a home-bureau
of charity. I mean it. Fifty thousand the year to do with as you
like. No hospitals, churches, heathen; but the needy and deserving
near by. You can send boys to college and girls to schools; and
Kitty'll be glad to be your lieutenant. I never had a college
education. Not that I ever needed it,"--with sudden truculence in his
tone. "But it might be a good thing for some of the rising generations
in my tenements. I'll leave the choice to you. And when it comes to
voting, why, tell me which way to vote, and I'll do it. I'll be a bull
moose, if you say so."
"You're the kindest man in the world, Dan, and I'm an old fool of a
woman!"
Kitty burst into the room, star-eyed, pale. "Mother!" She sped to her
mother's side. "Oh, I felt it in my bones that something was going to
happen!"
"Think of it, Kitty dear; your mother, fighting with a policeman! Oh,
it was frightful!"
"Never mind, mumsy," Kitty soothed. She rang for the maid, a thing her
father had not thought to do. And when her mother was snug in bed, her
head in cooling bandages, her face and hands bathed in refreshing
cologne, Kitty returned to her father, "Dad, you mustn't say a word to
mother about it, but I've been robbed."
"What?"
"My necklace. And I could not identify the thief if he stood before me
this very minute. The interior light was out of order. He entered,
pretending he had made a mistake. He called me Enid and told me to put
up my collar; touched my neck with his hands. I was so astonished that
I could not move. Finally I managed to explain that he had made a
mistake. He apologized and got out; and it is quite evident that the
necklace went with him."
"Can't you remember the least thing about him?"
"Nothing, absolutely nothing."
"Where were the Crawfords?"
"I did not wait to see them. My cab was ahead of theirs. What shall
we do?"
"Notify the police; it's all we can do. They cost me an even ten
thousand, Kitty. And I told you not to wear them on a night like this.
I'm discouraged. I want to get out of this blasted country. I'm
hoodooed." Killigrew walked the floor. He took out a cigar, eyed it
thoughtfully, and returned it to his pocket. "Because they happen to
be born in this smoke, they think the way they do things is the last
word on the subject. I'd like to show them."
"Dad,"--with a bit of a smile,--"I know what the trouble is. You want
to go home."
"And that's the truth. This is the first trip abroad I ever took with
you and your mother, and it's going to be the last. I can't live out
of my element, which is hurry and bustle and getting things done
quickly. I'm a fish out of water. I want to go home; I want to see
the Giants wallop the Cubs; and I want my two-weeks' bass fishing. But
I'll hang on till the end of June as I promised. Ten thousand in
sapphires you couldn't match in a hundred years, and Molly coming in
banged up like a prize-fighter! . . . Someone at the door."
It proved to be Crawford.
"Glad you got back safely," he said relievedly.
"Had her necklace stolen," replied Killigrew briefly.
"You don't mean to say. . . ."
Kitty recounted her amazing adventure.
"And my wife's ruby is gone." Crawford made the disclosure simply. He
was a quiet man; he had learned the futility of gestures, of wasting
words in lamentation.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Kitty.
"The windows of the cab were down. I stood outside, smoking to pass
the time. Suddenly I heard Mrs. Crawford cry out. A hand had reached
in from the off side, clutched the pendant, twisted it off, and was
gone. All quicker than I can tell it. I tried to give chase, but it
was utter folly. I couldn't see anything two feet away. Mrs. Crawford
is a bit knocked up over it. Rather sinister stone, if its history is
a true one: the Nana Sahib's ruby, you know. For the jewel itself I
don't care. I never liked to see her wear it."
Killigrew threw up his hands. "And this is the London you've been
bragging about to me! How much was the ruby worth?"
"Don't know; nobody does. It's one of those jewels you can't set a
price on. He will not be able to dispose of it in its present shape.
He'll break it up and sell the pieces, and that's the shame of it.
Think of the infernal cleverness of the man! Two or three hundred
vehicles stalled in the street, fog so thick you couldn't see your hand
before your face. Simple game for a man with ready wit. And the
police busy at the two ends of the block, trying to straighten out the
tangle. Mrs. Crawford says that the hand was white, slender and well
kept. It came in swiftly and accurately. The man had been watching
and waiting. She was so unprepared for the act that she didn't even
try to catch the hand. I have notified Scotland Yard. But you can't
hunt down a hand. I'm willing to wager that we'll neither of us ever
see the gems again."
"He must have come directly from your carriage to mine," said Kitty.
"I am heart-broken."
"One of the tricks of fate. Glad you got back all right. We were
mightily worried. Come over across the hall at nine to-morrow, all of
you, for breakfast. Don't fuss up. And we'll talk over the affair and
plan what's to be done. Good night."
"I like that young man," declared Killigrew emphatically. "He's the
real article. American to the backbone; a millionaire who doesn't
splurge. Well," sighing regretfully, "he was born to it, and I had to
dig for mine. But I can't get it through my head why he wants to
excavate mummies when he could dig up potatoes with some profit."
"Dad, find me an earl or a duke like Mr. Crawford, and I'll marry him
just as fast as you like."
"Kittibudget, I'm not so strong for dukes as I was. Your mother will
have a black eye in the morning, or I don't know a shindy when I see
it. Now, hike off to bed. I'm all in."
"You poor old dad! I worry you to death."
She threw her lovely arms about his neck and kissed him.
"Well, you're worth it. Kitty, I've had a jolt to-night. You marry
whom you blame please. I've been doing some tall thinking. Make your
own romance, duke or dry-goods clerk. You'd never hook up with
anything that wasn't a man. You're Irish. If he happens to be made,
all well and good; if not, why, I'll undertake to make him. And that's
a bargain. I don't want any alimony money in the Killigrew family."
She kissed him again and went into her bedroom. Kind-hearted,
impulsive old dad! In a week's time he would forget all about this
heart-to-heart talk, and shoo away every male who hadn't a title or a
million, or who wasn't due to fall heir to one or the other.
Nevertheless, she had long since made up her mind to build her own
romance. That was her right, and she did not propose to surrender it
to anybody. Her weary head on the pillow, she thought of the voices in
the fog. "A wager's a wager."
The next morning the fog was not quite so thick; that is, in places
there were holes and punctures. You saw a man's face and torso, but
neither hat nor legs. Again, you saw the top of a cab bowling along,
but no horse: phantasmally.
Breakfast in Crawford's suite was merry enough. Misfortune was turned
into jest. At least, they made a fine show of it; which is
characteristic of people who bow to the inevitable whenever confronted
by it. Crawford was passing his cigars, when a page was announced.
The boy entered briskly, carrying a tray upon which reposed a small
package.
"By special messenger, sir. It was thought you might be liking to have
it at once, sir." The page pocketed the shilling politely and departed.
"That's the first bit of live work I've seen anybody do in this hotel,"
commented Killigrew, striking a match.
"I have stopped here often," said Crawford, "and they are familiar with
my wishes. Excuse me till I see what this is."
The quartet at the table began chatting again, about the fog, what they
intended doing in Paris, sunshiny Paris. By and by Crawford came over
quietly and laid something on the table before his wife's plate.
It was the Nana Sahib's ruby, so-called.