Part 9 (1/2)

”If you take my advice you will avoid a scene,” the detective said, leaning a little over the table. ”Believe me, I am not to be trifled with.

If you do not come willingly there are other means. I am simply trying to avoid a disturbance in a public restaurant.”

Mr. Parker rose reluctantly to his feet.

”Eve, dear,” he said, ”I suppose we may as well obey this very autocratic person. The sooner we go the sooner we shall be back to supper. Mr.

Walmsley, I owe you my most profound apologies. I had no idea when I asked you to join us that you would become involved in anything disagreeable.”

”Don't mind me,” I begged him. ”I am glad to come. Perhaps we had better get it over as soon as possible.”

”We shall be back,” Mr. Parker explained to Luigi, who had strolled up to see what was happening, ”in twenty minutes. Prepare, if you please, three oyster c.o.c.ktails, some grilled cutlets, and saute potatoes. Thank you, Luigi. In twenty minutes, mind!”

We pa.s.sed out toward the entrance. Mr. Cullen was walking with almost professional proximity to his companion. Eve and I were a few steps in the rear.

”Eve,” I whispered, drawing her for a moment close to me, ”remember that whatever comes of this--whatever happens--there is no word I have ever said to you, or to your father about you, which I do not mean and shall not always mean.”

She looked at me a little curiously. From the first her own demeanor had been singularly unmoved. During the last few seconds, however, she had grown paler. She suddenly took my hand and gave it a little squeeze.

”You really are a little more than nice!” she said.

We drove to the police station and Mr. Cullen ushered us at once into a private room, where an inspector was seated at a table.

”Mr. Hennessey, sir,” he began, ”I have a charge of theft against this man and his daughter. I watched them at the opera house to-night. At the entrance they were both of them hustling Lady Orstline. As you may have heard, she cried out suddenly that her pearl necklace had been stolen. I rushed for these two, but by some means or other they got away. I followed them to Stephano's restaurant and discovered them with the necklace on the table in front of them; The man Parker was showing it to the other two. He attempted to conceal it, but I was just in time.”

The inspector nodded.

”Very good, Mr. Cullen,” he said. ”Where is the necklace?”

The detective produced it proudly and laid it upon the table before him.

The inspector dipped his pen in the ink.

”What is your name?” he asked Mr. Parker.

”Joseph H. Parker,” was the reply. ”I am an American citizen and this is my daughter. Mr. Cullen appears to be a person of observation. It is true we were at the opera. It is perfectly true we were within a few yards of Lady Orstline when she called out that her necklace was stolen. There's nothing remarkable about that, however, as we occupied adjacent stalls.

What I want to point out to you is, though, if you'll allow me, that the necklace I had on the table before me at Stephano's when Mr. Cullen suddenly popped round the screen--the necklace you are now looking at, sir--is of imitation pearls, valued at about ten pounds. I bought it in the Burlington Arcade; it belongs to my daughter, and I was simply examining the clasp, which is scarcely safe.”

There was a moment's breathless silence. To me Mr. Parker's statement seemed too good to be true; yet he had spoken with the easy confidence of a man who knows what he is about. Standing there, the personification of respectability, a trifle indignant, a trifle contemptuous, his words could not fail to carry with them a certain amount of conviction. The inspector rang a bell by his side.

”What are your daughter's initials?” he asked quickly.

”E.P.--Eve Parker,” Mr. Parker replied. ”Look at the back of the gold clasp. There you are,” he pointed out--”E.P.”

Mr. Cullen and the inspector both bent over the necklace. The inspector gave a brief order to a policeman.

”The initials on the clasp are certainly E.P.,” the inspector admitted slowly. ”I do not pretend to be a judge of jewelry myself. However, I have sent for some one who is.”

A man in plain clothes entered the room. The inspector beckoned to him, showed him the necklace and whispered a question. The man examined the pearls for barely five seconds. Then he handed them back.