The Chase of the Ruby (Thriller Novel). Richard Marsh

      CHAPTER IV

      MR HOLLAND FAILS

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      A Small young lady, daintily fashioned, with a child-like face. She was charmingly dressed; a big feather boa was round her neck. As she stood there, in spite of the perfection of her attire, she looked more like a child than a woman. The men released each other. Mr Dumville explained.

      'I was only going to throw the fellow down the stairs.'

      'Is that all? And what has'--there was a little hesitation; then the word was softened by a smile--'the fellow done? And who may the fellow be?'

      'I don't know. Some bounder, I suppose.'

      Mr Dumville seemed slightly disconcerted, as if the situation had not quite shaped as he had expected. Mr Holland's hat and stick had fallen to the floor. He stooped to pick them up. When he turned there came an exclamation from the little lady at the door.

      'Guy!'

      'Miss Bewicke.'

      'Whoever would have thought of seeing you? Why, this is Mr Holland, a friend of my childish days.'

      She advanced with a tiny gloved hand held out to him. Mr Dumville, whose hands were in his trouser pockets, seemed disposed to be grumpy.

      'It wasn't my fault; he should have told me.'

      'You hardly gave me an opportunity.'

      'My dear Bryan, I believe you're a little mad; that is, I believe you're a little madder even than I thought you were. Guy, this is Bryan Dumville, a gentleman who thinks that he has claims on me. Bryan, this is Guy Holland, who was a friend of mine when I was quite a little child; and that--how long ago that is!'

      'I don't see how I'm to blame. The porter was talking about the fellow who has been such a nuisance, saying that he has been making himself particularly objectionable to-day, trying to force his way upstairs, and I don't know what; and he added that he was hanging about at that very moment, and if he turned his back he shouldn't be surprised if the blackguard made another try to get at you. I made up my mind that if he did I would give him what for. So, when someone knocked at the door, and I found it was a man, I went for him.'

      'Nothing could be more natural.'

      If Mr Holland's tone was a little dry Mr Dumville did not seem to notice it; but the lady regarded the speaker with laughter lighting all her pretty face.

      'Guy, you must sup with us.'

      'Thank you, I have not long dined.'

      'That doesn't matter; you must eat with us again.' She rang the bell. A maid appeared. 'Bring another plate; Mr Holland will join us at supper.' Miss Bewicke proceeded to remove her outdoor things, handing them to Mr Dumville one by one, talking as she did so. 'Someone told me that you were at the other side of the world--at the North Pole, I think.'

      'Not the North Pole; but I have been to Africa. I only returned last night.'

      'And you came to-day to see me? How perfectly delightful of you.'

      Mr Holland winced. He was conscious that the lady might misapprehend the situation.

      'The fact is, I have something rather important which I wish to say to you.'

      'Indeed? How interesting! I like people to say important things to me. Say it while we're at supper. That is, if it's something Bryan may be allowed to listen to.'

      'If I'm in the way I'll go.'

      Mr Holland was silent. He felt that Mr Dumville was in the way, but that he himself was hardly in a position to say so. Miss Bewicke spoke for him.

      'My dear Bryan, when you're in the way we'll let you know. Now, people, will you please sit down?' They seated themselves at table. 'What is this very important thing?--must it out?--or will it keep?'

      Mr Holland reflected. He thought of Letty, and other things. Miss Bewicke seemed disposed to be friendly. Perhaps it was as well there was a third person present. He decided to make the running.

      'It's this way. My uncle's dead.'

      'Your uncle? Mr George Burton? I hope you won't think me dreadful, but I cannot say I'm sorry. He was not a person for whom I entertained feelings of profound respect.'

      'He--he's left rather a peculiar will.'

      'I'm not surprised. I should be surprised at nothing he did which was peculiar. I never knew him do anything which wasn't. Or worse.'

      Mr Holland resolved to plunge.

      'He says you have a ruby ring of his.'

      'He says?--who says?'

      'My uncle--in his will.'

      Miss Bewicke laid down her knife and fork. 'Mr Holland, do I understand that you intend to suggest that I have in my possession another person's property?'

      'It's like this. He had a ruby ring, I know it very well. In his will he says you have it. He may have given it to you for all I know; he did queer things--'

      'Thank you.'

      'I don't mean that.'

      'It doesn't matter. Go on.'

      'Anyhow, it's a condition of his will that I'm to get it back from you, and if I don't get it back within three months of his death I'm to lose his money.'

      'I don't in the least understand you. Will you please be so good as to make yourself quite clear.'

      He made himself as clear as he could, though he did not find it easy. Nor was his explanation well received.

      'Then am I to gather that you have come to me at midnight, hot-foot from Africa, in order to get from me--a ring; a ruby ring?'

      'It doesn't sound very nice, but that's the plain truth of it.'

      'It's very flattering.'

      'Very!'

      The chorus came from Mr Dumville, and was accompanied by a glare.

      'I can only throw myself upon your mercy, Miss Bewicke, and implore you to let me have this