The Case of the Two Pearl Necklaces (Musaicum Vintage Mysteries). Dorothy Fielding
But Arthur looked delighted to be allowed to breathe the same air as his divinity. He played badly. Violet, as always, played extremely well, and won quite a nice little sum from Ann Lovelace and her partner.
Ann handed over a couple of notes with a smile. "Nothing can resist you to-night, Violet. You ought to be at Grayham's," she said a little later, when Violet happened to be alone with her, making up in the cloakroom. Ann stretched out a lovely hand and laid a caressing finger-tip for a second on one of the pearls as they swung towards her at some movement of their wearer's.
"Where's that?" Violet asked.
"He's a man from South Africa. He has a flat close by, and lets a few friends who, like himself, only enjoy high play, drop in for it whenever they feel inclined. Care to have a look in there? We'll slip away for half an hour."
They got their wraps, and sped quietly downstairs.
A word to her chauffeur, and Ann's car drew up at a house of flats in Park Lane. "Grayham," was murmured to the night porter on duty, and they were shown to a lift. Upstairs, on the top floor, their guide rang a certain bell and then disappeared.
The door was opened by a footman who evidently recognised Ann, for he led them down a short, broad corridor and opened a door at the end. The two stepped into a large, closely-curtained room in which chemin de fer and baccarat were in full swing.
There were no introductions. A tall, alert-faced man, rather of the army type, just glanced up, bowed to Ann, and went on dealing. No one else looked up at all.
Ann steered Violet to a small table in a bay window presided over by a very tall, very broad-shouldered, very muscular-looking servant.
"You take as many cardboard counters as you like," she explained lightly. "The man stamps your name on each, for they're as good as notes, and any which you don't use you yourself tear up. It's only the ones you hand over that count as actual money. Those of this colour represent each five pounds; those, ten; those, fifty; those, one hundred. One-pound tokens? Oh, those lilac-coloured? But, of course, they're very seldom used here."
Violet helped herself well. She was feeling rich to-night. She would be married this time next week, and Arthur had had very generous settlements drawn up. She would be a very wealthy woman in a few days now. And, although Arthur's solicitors had stipulated in the settlements that he would not be responsible for any debts incurred by her before their marriage, Violet could smile at the stipulation. He was her abject slave, and he would remain so, she knew.
She glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight as she seated herself at the baccarat table. At first her luck was in. But it deserted her presently. By that time it was three o'clock in the morning, and Ann and she must return. Violet, however, found this easier said than done. Mr. Grayham and a couple of "friends" of his, at least, he called them so, moved incessantly to and fro, entering in their note-books how much each departing visitor owed, or was owed. Paying or receiving, accordingly, as swiftly as bank clerks. Mr. Grayham now came over to Violet, to whom he was introduced by Ann. Smiling genially, he said how much he regretted that Miss Finch's first visit had resulted in a deficit. Just a little matter of only four hundred and seventy-five pounds, however.
"A—a cheque—" Violet said hastily—abruptly. "I'll draw you a cheque for it."
"Delighted," murmured her host. "In this side-room." He held open its door and the three stepped in. Shutting the door behind him, he motioned the two young women to a writing-table and comfortable arm-chairs.
"I'll leave you while you draw it," he murmured. Then he added as in afterthought, "by the way, I hope you don't mind, but as this is your guest's first visit, Miss Lovelace, will you write me a line as sponsor for the cheque? You know our few rules."
"Certainly," Ann replied carelessly, and Mr. Grayham left them.
Ann adjusted the pale pastel flowers that formed one of her shoulder straps, and with which her cloak of silver cloth seemed lined. Violet drew a deep breath as she picked up a pen.
"Of course, I can't guarantee your cheque without any security for it," Ann said smilingly. "But if you're in a tight hole for the moment I'll lend you the money with pleasure."
"Oh, will you?" Violet's tone was effusively grateful.
"Certainly. On the shorter of your two pearl necklaces so gorgeously displayed around your pretty throat. As I helped you choose it, I don't need to have it valued first. Just over a thousand pounds Arthur paid for it, I know. You're a lucky girl, Violet. Well, would you like me to give Gray-ham my cheque instead of drawing one yourself?"
"Oh, thanks ever so!" Violet unfastened the string of lovely pearls in question and stood playing with it, running the pearls fondly through her well-manicured rather thick fingers, while Ann, picking up a pen, drew her cheque for the four hundred and seventy-five pounds. But, as Violet handed the pearls to her, Ann asked her to sit down again for a moment more.
"You must give me a line, you know, to say that the pearls are one of the two strings I saw bought, the Queen Charlotte's pearls,' as they were called by the jeweller; and a further line to say that they are your own property, that you have a perfect right to raise a loan on them, and that you will redeem them within a month after your marriage to Arthur, at latest."
"But surely all that's quite unnecessary between friends, as we are," Violet exclaimed, with a confident smile.
"Absolutely necessary," was the cool and quite definite reply. "To me, at least."
Violet met Ann's firm look and capitulated, though with an inward curse. She wrote the words dictated, signed the paper, handed it and the pearls to Ann, and received in return the cheque; then they stepped back into the other room. Mr. Grayham seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. He left one of his friends to continue paying out notes, and was at their side in a moment. Violet handed him Ann's cheque.
"Miss Finch will settle with me," Ann said lightly. Grayham gave her a receipt, and saw them to the door, all smiles and pleasant speeches.
At eleven next morning, Arthur was told that Miss Lovelace and Miss Walsh had called and would like to see him.
The drawing-room in Grosvenor Square looked very pleasant that sunny morning, but it was unmistakably the drawing-room of a bachelor—or' a widower. Arthur's mother had died at his birth.
"Kitty, what's the matter?" Arthur began, before he was well into the room.
Kitty shook her head. She looked uneasy. "Don't ask me. This is Ann's show. She routed me out this morning and said I must come along. That it was a family matter—a 'Walsh' matter."
Ann Lovelace—dressed in cool-looking muslin and a large, shady black hat—hesitated a moment perceptibly. Her long gloves, matching her bag and shoes, were black, and she stood smoothing them along her slender arms before she spoke.
"It's a very serious matter, I fear," she said at length, hesitantly. "And I hate to speak of it, Arthur. Believe me, I do, indeed, but I can't help myself. It's concerned with Violet Finch."
"Then she ought to be present," Kitty broke in hotly.
Ann silenced her with a look—calm, but authoritative. "Not at all I On the contrary, we must first decide what is best to be done for all sakes. She borrowed close on five hundred pounds from me last night. Oh—" in reply to a quick forward step on Arthur's part. "It's not the money that troubles me I But she asked me to lend it to her on the security of one of those pearl necklaces you had given her. One of the 'Queen Charlotte's' necklaces. I agreed, and suggested the smaller one." She paused.
"Well?" snapped Arthur. His face had flushed deeply. Even the whites of his eyes were suffused.
Kitty was speechless. What was coming? If she knew Ann—and she did—it would be something very clever—and very unpleasant for Violet Finch. For that Ann Lovelace was no friend of Arthur's fiance, Kitty was convinced.
With great deliberation Ann undid her black shopping bag with its chased silver mount to let her slender, coral-nailed fingers extract a string