occupant.
“Can I do anything for you?” the latter asked, noticing the woman’s hesitation.
“I want to see Mr. Ruff,” the visitor said.
“Mr. Ruff is out at present,” Violet answered.
“When will he be in?”
“I cannot tell you,” Violet said. “Perhaps you had better leave a message. Or will you call again? Mr. Ruff is very uncertain in his movements.”
Maud sank into a chair.
“I’ll wait,” she declared.
“I am not sure,” Violet remarked, raising her eyebrows, “whether that will be convenient. There may be other clients in. Mr. Ruff himself may not be back for several hours.”
“Are you his secretary?” Maud asked, without moving.
“I am his secretary and also his wife,” Violet declared. The woman raised herself a little in her chair.
“Some people have all the luck,” she muttered. “It’s only a few months ago that Mr. Ruff was glad enough to take me out. You remember when I used to come here?”
“I remember,” Violet assented.
“I was all right then,” the woman continued, “and now—now I’m down and out,” she added, with a little sob. “You see what I am like. You look as though you didn’t care to have me in the office, and I don’t wonder at it. You look as though you were afraid I’d come to beg, and you are right—I have come to beg.”
“I am sure Mr. Ruff will do what he can for you,” Violet said, “although—”
“I see you know all about it,” Maud interrupted, with a hard little laugh. “I came once to wheedle information out of him. I came to try and betray the only man who ever really cared for me. Mr. Ruff was too clever, and I am thankful for it. I have been as big a fool as a woman can be, but I am paying—oh, I am paying for it right enough!”
She swayed in her chair, and Violet was only just in time to catch her. She led the fainting woman to an inner room, made her comfortable upon a sofa, and sent out for some food and a bottle of wine. Down in the street below, John Dory, who had tracked his wife to the building, was walking away with face as black as night. He knew that Maud had lost her position, that she was in need of money—almost penniless. He had waited to see to whom she would turn, hoping—poor fool as he called himself—that she would come back to him. And it was his enemy to whom she had gone! He had seen her enter the building; he knew that she had not left it. In the morning they brought him another report—she was still within. It was the end, this, he told himself! There must be a settlement between him and Peter Ruff!
Mr. John Dory, who had arrived at Clenarvon Court in a four-wheel cab from the nearest railway station, was ushered by the butler to the door of one of the rooms on the ground floor, overlooking the Park. A policeman was there on guard—a policeman by his attitude and salute, although he was in plain clothes. John Dory nodded, and turned to the butler.
“You see, the man knows me,” he said. “Here is my card. I am John Dory from Scotland Yard. I want to have a few words with the sergeant.”
The butler hesitated.
“Our orders are very strict, sir,” he said. “I am afraid that I cannot allow you to enter the room without a special permit from his lordship. You see, we have had no advice of your coming.”
John Dory nodded.
“Quite right,” he answered. “If every one were to obey his orders as literally, there would be fewer robberies. However, you see that this man recognizes me.”
The butler turned toward an elderly gentleman in a pink coat and riding-breeches, who had just descended into the hall.
“His lordship is here,” he said. “He will give you permission, without a doubt. There is a gentleman from Scotland Yard, your lordship,” he explained, “who wishes to enter the morning-room to speak with the sergeant.”
“Inspector John Dory, at your lordship’s service,” saluting. “I have been sent down from town to help in this little business.”
Lord Clenarvon smiled.
“I should have thought that, under the circumstances,” he said, “two of you would have been enough. Still, it is not for me to complain. Pray go in and speak to the sergeant. You will find him inside. Rather dull work for him, I’m afraid, and quite unnecessary.”
“I am not so sure, your lordship,” Dory answered. “The Clenarvon diamonds are known all over the world, and I suppose there isn’t a thieves’ den in Europe that does not know that they will remain here exposed with your daughter’s other wedding presents.”
Lord Clenarvon smiled once more and shrugged his shoulders. He was a man who had unbounded faith in his fellow-creatures.
“I suppose,” he said, “it is the penalty one has to pay for historical possessions. Go in and talk to the sergeant, by all means, Mr. Dory. I hope that Graves will succeed in making you comfortable during your stay here.”
John Dory was accordingly admitted into the room which was so jealously guarded. At first sight, it possessed a somewhat singular appearance. The windows had every one of them been boarded up, and the electric lights consequently fully turned on. A long table stood in the middle of the apartment, serving as support for a long glass showcase, open at the top. Within this, from end to end, stretched the presents which a large circle of acquaintances were presenting to one of the most popular young women in society, on the occasion of her approaching marriage to the Duke of Rochester. In the middle, the wonderful Clenarvon diamonds, set in the form of a tiara, flashed strange lights into the somberly lit apartment. At the end of the table a police sergeant was sitting, with a little pile of newspapers and illustrated journals before him. He rose to his feet with alacrity at his superior’s entrance.
“Good morning, Saunders,” John Dory said. “I see you’ve got it pretty snug in here.”
“Pretty well, thank you, sir,” Saunders answered. “Is there anything stirring?”
John Dory looked behind to be sure that the door was closed. Then he stopped for a moment to gaze at the wonderful diamonds, and finally sat on the table by his subordinate’s side.
“Not exactly that, Saunders,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I came down here because of that list of guests you sent me up.”
Saunders smiled.
“I think I can guess the name you singled out, sir,” he said.
“It was Peter Ruff, of course,” Dory said. “What is he doing here in the house, under his own name, and as a guest?”
“I have asked no questions, sir,” Saunders answered. “I underlined the name in case it might seem worth your while to make inquiries.”
John Dory nodded.
“Nothing has happened, of course?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Saunders answered. “You see,
