The meanly vigilant eyes of the man in plain clothes traveled sidelong
from Julian to Mercy, and valued her beauty as they had valued the
carpet and the chairs. "The old story," he thought. "The nice-looking
woman is always at the bottom of it; and, sooner or later, the
nice-looking woman has her way." He marched back across the room, to the
discord of his own creaking boots, bowed, with a villainous smile which
put the worst construction on everything, and vanished through the
library door.
Lady Janet's high breeding restrained her from saying anything until the
police officer was out of hearing. Then, and not till then, she appealed
to Julian.
"I presume you are in the secret of this?" she said. "I suppose you have
some reason for setting my authority at defiance in my own house?"
"I have never yet failed to respect your ladyship," Julian answered.
"Before long you will know that I am not failing in respect toward you
now."
Lady Janet looked across the room. Grace was listening eagerly,
conscious that events had taken some mysterious turn in her favor within
the last minute.
"Is it part of your new arrangement of my affairs," her ladyship
continued, "that this person is to remain in the house?"
The terror that had daunted Grace had not lost all hold of her yet. She
left it to Julian to reply. Before he could speak Mercy crossed the room
and whispered to her, "Give me time to confess it in writing. I can't
own it before them--with this round my neck." She pointed to the
necklace. Grace cast a threatening glance at her, and suddenly looked
away again in silence.
Mercy answered Lady Janet's question. "I beg your ladyship to permit her
to remain until the half hour is over," she said. "My request will have
explained itself by that time."
Lady Janet raised no further obstacles. For something in Mercy's face,
or in Mercy's tone, seemed to have silenced her, as it had silenced
Grace. Horace was the next who spoke. In tones of suppressed rage
and suspicion he addressed himself to Mercy, standing fronting him by
Julian's side.
"Am I included," he asked, "in the arrangement which engages you to
explain your extraordinary conduct in half an hour?"
_His_ hand had placed his mother's wedding present round Mercy's neck. A
sharp pang wrung her as she looked at Horace, and saw how deeply she
had already distressed and offended him. The tears rose in her eyes; she
humbly and faintly answered him.
"If you please," was all she could say, before the cruel swelling at her
heart rose and silenced her.
Horace's sense of injury refused to be soothed by such simple submission
as this.
"I dislike mysteries and innuendoes," he went on, harshly. "In my family
circle we are accustomed to meet each other frankly. Why am I to wait
half an hour for an explanation which might be given now? What am I to
wait for?"