Neither of them could explain afterwards how it happened, but Lady Kenton’s leg was swept from under her, and she went sprawling across the table. The cry she uttered brought the two detectives from outside flying into the room. Two men actually on the spot jumped up in alarm. Lady Kenton was still clawing at the table; Mannering and Long were doing their best to help and to restore her outraged dignity.
Twenty or thirty of the precious girts to the now happily married couple were spread about the floor, and the table, so orderly a few minutes before, was in contusion. The plain-clothes men were completely bewildered. The little private detective from Dorman’s Agency was hopping from one foot to the other in an effort to count everything at once; but he failed, and Mannering was smiling contentedly to himself.
Lady Kenton had stumbled across the table some six inches away from the pearls she had presented to Mane. It was the moment for which Mannering had been waiting. He had slipped them from the table and into his pocket while he had appeared to be concerning himself only with rescuing her. Not for a moment had the expression on his face altered. No one had seen him; no one would have guessed that in those few seconds the haul had been made. The ease of it almost made him laugh aloud.
The Dowager’s body had hidden the little manoeuvre from everyone else in the room, and as at last he managed to steady her he felt like hugging her in sheer jubilation. Instead: “I’m terribly sorry,” he said “I wouldn’t. . .”
“It was as much my fault as yours, protested Long.
Lady Kenton was firmly convinced that it had been neither of them. She was breathing rather heavily, and surveying the mess about her. The gold-backed hair-brushes were at her feet, next to a set of carvers and a cut-glass bowl, which, happily, was not damaged.
“I slipped,” she said, regaining her self-control and breathing more freely. “I really can’t have you taking the blame. . . .”
Lorna Fauntley, one of many attracted by the Dowager’s cry of alarm, entered the room. A look from Mannering told her that he was anxious to get the Countess out of the way. Lorna managed it, without any fuss. The excitement waned when it was discovered that there had been a slight accident, and no burglary, so far as was known.
It was Mannering who made the suggestion to Bristow’s man.
“You’d better check the presents, and make sure everything’s here,” he suggested, and the man grimaced, but nodded in agreement.
“I don’t suppose anything will be missing, sir, but if anything does happen it’d be safest. There have been several people in and out.”
“That’s just it,” said Mannering. He offered the other a cigarette, and smiled to himself as his hand inside his pocket brushed against the pearls. “Do you need any help?”
The Yard man was beginning to wonder whether the other was not a colleague. Then he remembered Mannering’s reputation, and decided against it.
“No, thanks,” he said, refusing both the help and the cigarette; “we’ll manage all right. Be best to shut the room for half an hour, though. Would you mind . . .”
“I’ll see Colonel Belton,” promised Mannering.
The Colonel, a little worried at first, was so pleased at Mannering’s assurance that it was just a precautionary measure that he insisted on locking the door of the library himself. Mannering strolled with him towards the reception-room. The gaiety of the earlier afternoon was dimming a little, although the younger spirits were still laughing and talking together. Lady Mary Overndon was yawning. The Wagnalls were thinking of getting away.
Frank Wagnall Senior, a tall, white-haired man who had made a fortune from motor cars, contrasted remarkably with his wife. He was thin, pale-faced, and tired-looking, while Daisy Wagnall was inclined to be fat, genial, rosy-faced, and possessed of surprising reserves of energy. Mannering found himself surprised that she had a son of Frank’s age.
But Mannering had little time to be astonished, for he was anxious for the party to break up quickly. He judged that the checking of the gifts would take three-quarters of an hour, and already ten minutes had passed. Before the discovery of the missing pearls was made he wanted at least a dozen of the guests to be away from the house. If that happened the police could not make a proper check, and he was anxious that they should not have the chance.
He was with Lady Mary when he stifled a yawn and then smiled apologetically.
“For a young man,” she said laughingly, “you can’t stand the pace very well, John.”
“It’s my usual good habits,” said Mannering, with a lazy smile. “You seem to be standing up to it well enough.”
Lady Mary’s smile was turned suddenly into a yawn, and they both laughed.
“To tell you the truth,” said Lady Mary, laughing again, “I’m missing my afternoon nap. I’m so tired I could fall asleep any minute.”
“I’ve strong arms,” said Mannering.
“Don’t be a fool,” said Lady Mary. “But let’s get back. If I stay here for another five minutes I swear I’ll faint.”
“I doubt if you’ve ever fainted in your life,” said Mannering.
They moved towards the Wagnalls and Colonel Belton, who was making an old Guard’s effort not to look as bored as he felt. Daisy Wagnall laughed.
“He’s brave, but I’m not, Frankie. Say — might we hint at going?”
“Do; I’ll be sweet and take it,” said Lady Mary. “I’m sure hall” of us are absolutely tired out.”
“Weddings — or the after-effects — are such a strain,” said Daisy Wagnall.
“Darned lot of unnecessary fuss and bother,” opined Colonel Belton, who had taken more pleasure than anyone in the preparations for the event.
“Don’t say,” said Mrs Wagnall, with refreshing directness, “that you believe in free love. Colonel? I’ve always told Frankie that. . .”
The Colonel suddenly realised the construction she had put on his remark, and his face was redder than Mannering had ever seen it. Lady Mary laughed gently, and took the other woman by the arm. The little party broke up, and several others followed it. Within half an hour of the excitement in the library the necessary dozen were away from Park Square.
Mannering was standing in the hall with Lorna when Colonel Belton came up. The Colonel’s face was purple now, and it was obvious that something was the matter.
But Mannering affected to notice nothing, and his smile was as cheerful as ever; he had schooled himself for the announcement that was coming.
“We’re just off,” he said, “but we’d like . . .”
He stopped, no longer able to ignore Belton’s obvious distress, and there was concern in Lorna’s eyes. Mannering spoke for her as well as himself.
“What’s the trouble, Colonel ?”
“I’ve had the shook of my life,” said Belton, breathing hard. “Er — could you spare me a minute? I won’t keep him long. Miss Fauntley.”
Lorna nodded, and Mannering went a few yards away with the Colonel. He was still schooling himself to make the necessary reaction and to show surprise, and the delay was unnerving. But no amount of schooling could have prepared him for the words that came.
“It’s about young Long,” said Belton.
Mannering’s eyes narrowed, but it was the only evidence of surprise he showed; so far, of course, there was no reason for it. He waited, on the alert.
“Ye-es,” said Belton. who seemed to have a great deal of difficulty in controlling his voice. “Gerry Long has — er . . . Hang it, Mannering, the pearls that Lady Kenton gave to Marie . . . They’ve gone. Long’s been arrested.”
‘Gerry Long?” The thing came with a suddenness that made Mannering gasp, but at least he had reason enough for the stupefaction in his eyes as he stared at Belton, hardly able to believe his ears. “Arrested — but that’s damned silly. On what grounds, Colonel ?”