Part 14 (1/2)

At this she laughed, but the ripples died away quickly upon her face, and the look of haunting fear again troubled her eyes. I observed that she was reticent in speaking plainly to me, and did my best to help her out with it.

”You have not yet put to me,” said I, ”the precise question which brought you here. It concerns the bracelet, of course?”

”Ye--yes,” said she; ”but I am very much afraid you will laugh at me. I wanted to ask you if, in your judgment--that is, with your experience--there is any reason why I should not wear my present at the Opera Ball to-night?”

Her confusion, when thus she had unburdened herself, was overwhelming.

She scarce dared to lift her eyes to mine as she spoke, and one of her hands played restlessly with the railway guide, while the other was closed firmly about her bracelet. Nor did I, who know the potency of woman's superst.i.tion in the matter of their jewels, feel the touch of a desire to draw amus.e.m.e.nt from her dilemma.

”Come,” said I, with all the gentleness of voice I could command; ”you have been reading something silly. The topaz is the emblem of fidelity, it is also a traditional cure for indigestion. In other words, the ancients were wise enough to know that love and good cooking are not so far apart after all. Wear your jewel at the opera by all means, and regard it as an antidote to the _confetti_ you will consume.”

She heard me thus far with a restrained smile upon her face, and indeed, she half rose as though to end the interview; but the evidence of fear was still about her eyes, and there was the note of unsatisfied questioning in her voice when she said,--

”I was sure you would tell me that--but I am keeping you from your dinner, and have already troubled you too much I fear.”

My answer to this appeal was to close the door of the _salon_, which had been open during our interview, and to draw a chair close to hers.

”Mademoiselle Bernier,” said I, ”the most important part of the intelligence you meant to bring to me remains unspoken. Let me encourage you to tell me everything freely, and be a.s.sured that without your express permission nothing you may say will be remembered by me.”

”Thank you, very much,” she said quietly, evidently regaining complete confidence; ”but I have nothing to conceal. A week ago, Monsieur Barre gave me this bracelet with the stipulation that I should wear it at the ball to-night. Two days ago, I received this letter, which I hesitated to show even to you, lest it should be an injustice to the man I love.”

She pa.s.sed, with her words, a dirty sc.r.a.p of a note to me, the leaf of a sheet of the commonest lined scribbling paper; and I read upon it, written in very bad French, the warning--

”Mademoiselle. If you wear the topaz bracelet at the Opera Ball to-night you carry death upon your arm.”

Thrice I read this; and as I repeated the words, the third time aloud, I saw, shaping about the simplicity of the girl, a mystery which seemed as deep, and at first sight as unfathomable, as any as I had known. As for the momentary victim of it she sat watching me while I, all amazed, held the paper still in my hand, and did not hide my surprise, or, indeed, attempt to.

”Mademoiselle,” said I, ”you speak to me of very deep matters, I fear.

But, of course, you have shown this letter to your relatives?”

”I have but one relative in the world,” said she, ”my mother, who is a paralytic. I dare not mention such a thing to her; she would die of fear.”

”And you yourself have no suspicion, no faint idea of the cause of such a letter as that?”

”I cannot even attempt to guess at it.”

”There are none of your lady friends who would hazard a joke with you?”

”Oh, no; they could not think of such a joke as that, and my few friends love me, I believe.”

I had now begun to pace up and down the room, being in a very whirl of theory and conjecture. And, in truth, the problem presented so many possibilities that it might well have troubled a man whose whole occupation was the solution of mysteries. Not that I lacked any clue, for my knowledge, such as it is, of the heartburnings, the jealousies, and the crimes which hover over the possession of precious stones at once compelled me to the conclusion, either that M. Georges Barre had been the victim of a previous _affaire du coeur_, or that his _fiancee_ had been won only over trampled hopes and vain rivalries. In either case (the case of the woman who resented the man's marriage, or the man who resented the woman's) was there ample warranty for such a letter as Mademoiselle Bernier had received. Yet was I too slow to venture the question with her, and did so at last in sheer pity for her childishness.

”Tell me,” said I, stopping of a sudden before her, ”what led you to me?”

”Madame Carmalovitch,” said she. ”I went to her first, but she knew you were in Paris, and would not rest until I had consented to see you. She would have come with me, but is latterly almost always unable to face the night air.”

”You have no one else you would care to consult in such a case?”

”No one,” said she.

”And if you go to the ball to-night without your bracelet----?”