THE BLUE DIAMOND (Murder Mystery Classic). Annie Haynes
the Wishing Well. See”—as they came in sight of the clear, limpid water, with tiny, wild maidenhair-fern growing in every niche and cranny of the old grey rock above it—“this was his cup,” picking up a curious-looking hollowed stone that stood on the wide ledge beside, “so they say, but Miss Mavis doesn’t believe it; she says she’s sure it can’t be so old.”
The man took it from her and looked at it.
“Um! Queer sort of thing, I should say. Now you must tell me what to do, Minnie, or I shall be making a mistake again. You have to drink out of this, don’t you?
“Drink and wish,” she said solemnly. “Wish for something you want very much, Jim, for a man can only have three wishes granted in his lifetime.”
Jim stooped and filled the cup.
“Well, here goes, then! I wish—”
With a cry Minnie stopped him.
“You mustn’t say what it is. You mustn’t tell anyone, or you won’t get it,” she said, with real distress. “Oh, do be careful, Jim! Let me drink first.”
“Right you are!” and with affected contrition he handed the cup to her.
Minnie stood silent a moment as if lost in thought, then she raised the cup to her lips and sipped the water slowly.
“Now, Jim!” she said as she passed it back.
Apparently Jim was in no uncertainty as to his wish; he emptied the cup with great celerity.
“That is soon done, then. Now if our wishes come true we shall be happy enough, Minnie.”
He tucked his arm in hers as they turned back.
“Yes, unless climbing the oak has brought us bad luck,” Minnie rejoined, unable to forget her grievance. “What made you stop when you got so far, Jim?” she went on curiously. “I heard you call out as if you were surprised.” The man hesitated a moment.
“I was surprised it wasn’t a nest, after all. As for why I came back, I could see you didn’t want me to go on and that’s enough for me any day, Minnie.”
Minnie rewarded him with a glance and a smile.
“Why, Jim—” The sound of a clock striking the hour interrupted her. “Six! Why, I ought to be at the Manor!” she cried in consternation. “How we must have dawdled! Come, Jim,” quickening her steps, “we must make all the haste we can or I shall be late and Miss Mavis will be waiting.”
“Tell her you have been to the Lovers’ Oak and the Wishing Well and she will understand,” suggested Jim as they hurried along. “I dare say she took her time with Mr. Davenant the other day. You won’t be so very late, after all; we are getting to the edge of the wood, and it won’t take you a minute to run across the Park. Oh, confound it all, here’s that fellow Greyson!”
Minnie’s pretty pink colour deepened a little as she caught sight of the tall figure in corduroy shooting-coat and knickerbockers coming round the corner of the path; and as the new-comer stepped a little aside to allow them to pass she glanced up into his moody face wistfully.
“Good evening, Tom!” she said, with a little hesitation and a half movement as if to hold out her hand.
But the man’s face did not relax; he affected not to see her pause.
“Good evening, Minnie!” he said stiffly as he went by.
Minnie glanced round after him with an uneasy look upon her pretty face.
Three months ago all Lockford had looked upon Tom Greyson and Minnie Spencer as lovers. They had been the best of friends from their childish days, when their fathers had lived side by side in the row of cottages standing on the bank of the little stream that ran through the village; and when in due time Tom was second gamekeeper at the Manor, and Minnie became Miss Mavis Hargreave’s own maid, it seemed only natural that they should walk out together on Sunday evenings, and that Tom should fondly dream of a day when he should bring his old playfellow to the little cottage in the Home Wood which he found at present so lonely. But with the advent of Jim Gregory as under-gardener at the Manor everything was changed—from the moment when the glance of Gregory’s dark eyes had lighted upon pretty Minnie Spencer sitting demurely with the head servants in the house-keeper’s pew at church the very first Sunday he came to Lockford he had attached himself to her, and very soon poor Tom Greyson was rudely awakened from his blissful dreams of the sweet young wife who was coming to share his little home.
From the first Jim Gregory had fascinated Miss Hargreave’s susceptible little maid with his tales of life under other conditions and the fact that he was a “foreigner,” that is, not Devonshire born and bred, while it caused the other inhabitants of Lockford to look at him askance, apparently only increased his fascination for her.
Gregory laughed openly now as he opened the wicket leading into the Park, and saw the stalwart form of his discarded rival striding away through the wood.
“Tom Greyson looks pretty bad, eh, Minnie?” he observed teasingly.
Minnie was not to be drawn. She took no notice of his remark; her rosy mouth was pursed up ominously.
“You must walk quicker than this, Jim, or I shall be too late to dress Miss Mavis.”
Gregory’s long strides soon caught her up.
“What is Miss Hargreave going to wear? The diamonds, the ‘Luck of the Hargreaves’?”
“The ‘Luck of the Hargreaves’!” Minnie echoed contemptuously. “That shows how much you know about such things, Jim. Miss Mavis will never wear the ‘Luck’ nor her ladyship either. It is kept for Sir Arthur’s wife.”
“Oh, I didn’t know!” Gregory said humbly. “I thought as it was such a grand occasion, the first time Miss Mavis has been to the Court since she was engaged to Mr. Davenant, maybe she would wear them—that Sir Arthur would lend them to her, like.”
Minnie shook her head decidedly.
“They will never be worn until Sir Arthur’s bride wears them on her wedding-day. Miss Mavis was telling me the other day that they say the heir’s bride must wear the great Blue Diamond then if it is to bring them good luck.”
“Luck! Luck!” Gregory repeated impatiently. “What people you Devonshire folk are for talking about luck, to be sure! I should say it was luck enough to have those diamonds to wear at all. Why, how many thousands of pounds are they worth?”
“Oh, I don’t know! Ever so many,” Minnie replied at random.” I have heard Granny say, when they sent them to the London Exhibition in 1854, that they had a special case with iron bars outside for them and a policeman to watch them night and day!”
“My word! And have you ever seen them, Minnie?”
“Once,” Minnie replied, pleased at the effect her words were producing. “When I was a little child, and Sir Noel was High Sheriff, he gave a big ball to the county and Mother and I came up to see her ladyship, Miss Dorothy’s mother, dressed. She had the diamonds on them. They looked like—like a string of fire!” concluded Minnie, somewhat at a loss for a suitable simile.
“My!” said Jim in an awestruck tone. “Where do they keep them, Minnie, and the gold plate? Mr. Briggs was telling me about that the other night. It must be a rare sight.”
“They are all safe in the strong-room,” replied Minnie importantly. “And I have heard that even Mr. Jenkins can’t get at them, nor anybody—only Sir Arthur himself. Miss Dorothy is more likely to wear the diamonds than Miss Mavis, I’m thinking,” she concluded with a little laugh.
Jim glanced at her curiously.
“What! You think Sir Arthur—”
“Hush! Hush! Somebody might hear us,” the girl said apprehensively as they entered the dark belt of shrubbery which immediately surrounded the Manor. “I really must make