‘What impatient creatures women are!’ murmured Lister.
‘I’m not impatient!’ she flashed back at him, and then drew in a long breath. ‘I’m—I’m afraid, horribly afraid."
Adrian Lister cracked a walnut between his thin, strong fingers.
‘Jane Culross is coming to your dance to-night?’ he inquired off-handedly, mentioning the young wife of Otto Culross, the South African millionaire who had recently retired and bought a big estate near Holmdean.
‘Jane is coming,’ said Mrs. Prideaux, ‘and wearing the Culross emeralds.’
‘A charming young thing,’ murmured Adrian Lister.
‘It was her emeralds I was talking about,’ Mrs. Prideaux reminded him.
‘So was I,’ smiled Lister. ‘They’re said to be the finest stones that have come out of Colombia for years. She wore them at a dance in the Marquise Hotel last week.’ He sighed. ‘I’m surprised that our friend Lord John hasn’t made a dead set at them before to-night.’
Mrs. Prideaux looked up quickly. ‘How do you know Jane Culross wore her emeralds at the “Marquise” last week?’
‘Because I saw them,’ said Adrian, and then bit his lip.
Mrs. Prideaux gave him a questioning glance: ‘You’re a puzzle, Adrian. You didn’t tell me you were at a dance at the “Marquise”.’ As Adrian laughed she continued: ‘You’ve been out a lot lately, I’ve noticed. . . . I sometimes think you know more about Lord John and his affairs than you’ve ever admitted to me.’
Adrian’s laughter was interrupted by the sudden trill of a telephone bell in the next room. When a maid presently informed Mrs. Prideaux that the call was for her, Adrian Lister lolled back in his chair and lit a cigarette. Since the door was closed, he could not hear the conversation; and when Mrs. Prideaux returned he looked up with a lazy smile.
‘From our illustrious and honourable servant at “The Green Lantern”?’ he queried, imitating to perfection the thin, Oriental accent of Mr. Tom Young. ‘And what message does he convey from our Honourable Friend?’ He gave an ironic chuckle.
‘How did you know?’ she asked quickly.
‘Guessed it from your rather scared face, my dear. . . . Why, what’s wrong?’
Mrs. Prideaux was gripping the back of her chair. ‘It’s what I’ve been afraid of,’ she said, calming her voice with an effort.
‘Here . . . to-night?’ he asked almost casually.
She nodded, and there was a long silence.
‘Where did Tom Young telephone from?’ he asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette.
‘A public call-box somewhere. He said a message has just come through for me. Lord John is coming here tonight. It is his wish that the dancing is stopped for supper at exactly eleven o’clock.’
Adrian Lister finished his port with evident enjoyment, and poured himself out a second glass. ‘And did he suggest any particular dish for the menu?’ he inquired with a faint sneer.
‘Don’t you see what it means?’ cried Mrs. Prideaux. ‘Don’t you understand? Something is going to happen here to-night at eleven o’clock! He has never taken such a risk before—never. It’s madness!’
Her lips were trembling; there was fear in her eyes; and noting the symptoms, Adrian Lister pushed the cognac across the table.
‘Old brandy is good for nerves. Pull yourself together, Lydia. What does it matter to you if our friend comes here to-night?’
‘It’s too near home for my taste! What if I’m involved? I think the police are suspicious as it is—I don’t trust that man Tripp of Scotland Yard. He seems friendly, but I don’t trust him, I tell you! This isn’t going to make matters any easier. Why must Lord John come here?’
‘For the Culross emeralds, of course,’ said Adrian Lister sweetly, ‘and anything else that may take his fancy. But why do you think you may be involved?’ he asked, crushing out his cigarette. ‘Haven’t you had orders to ring up the local police and tell ’em you’re scared of motor-bandits and so forth? Surely that clears you with the police!’
‘They’re sending two plain-clothes men here,’ she retorted. ‘What can Lord John do? Nothing. It’s lunacy to try.’
‘Our friend has never failed yet,’ said Lister quietly, ‘and I fancy that he won’t fail to-night.’
He rose to his feet with a gentle laugh. ‘To change to a more pleasant subject, my dear, what costume are you wearing? I suggest the Grecian shepherdess one. If I may say so, it suits you to perfection.’ He gave a cynical bow. ‘Isn’t it time you were thinking about it? Your guests will be arriving shortly.’
He rose and held the door open for her. She was about to speak, but hesitated, and stood looking at him for a few moments, while a slightly sardonic smile played on his face. Then she passed quickly from the room.
CHAPTER XXIV
LORD JOHN
‘Where is Sir Richard Templeton?’
It was Mrs. Prideaux who asked the question, and the manservant had to think for a moment before he replied:
‘I haven’t seen him for the last half-hour, madam.’
Earlier, Templeton had sat for a time beside his hostess, listening to the music and watching the dancers as they moved round the big room, their gay fancy-dresses mingling and melting in a wild symphony of daring colour. He had murmured his admiration for her own costume, that of a Grecian shepherdess, which enhanced her fair beauty. But he had seemed a trifle absent-minded, she had thought, as he strolled towards the conservatory, where card-tables had been arranged for those who wished to play.
It was there Lydia Prideaux sought him now. But he was not to be seen; nor was he out in the loggia, where several couples were looking across the moonlit garden, admiring the tiny floodlight that played upon a statue of Pallas Athene and upon the leaping jets of the fountain that sparkled around the stately goddess of wisdom and of war in a million points of brightness.
Mrs. Prideaux hurried back to the ball-room. The final strains of a waltz were heard dying away. It was the dance immediately preceding the supper interval, and she had omitted to tell Sir Richard Templeton that there was a place for him at her own table at the head of the room. As soon as she appeared, her supper partner claimed her, and on the arm of Sir Norman Parry, the retired banker whose country-house was near Holmdean, she led the way to the supper-room.
Half-way down the wide and lofty apartment there was a small musicians’ gallery. Here several members of the band presently appeared, and soft music floated out above the talk and laughter. As she looked at her gathered guests, numbering nearly a hundred, Mrs. Prideaux could not fail to note the vivacity and movement that is so clear a sign to the experienced hostess that the party is going with a swing. Since her rapid rise among the brighter sections of West End society, Mrs. Prideaux’s parties had become noted for their brilliance, but the present affair looked as if it would eclipse all previous triumphs.
Her pleasure was momentary, however, for the shadow of fear which had been haunting her all the evening chilled her. Promptly at nine o’clock Detective-Sergeant Burt had reported himself to her for duty, announcing that he had been sent from county head-quarters in response to her request. He was a ruddy-faced young man with pleasant manners; and so that he could move inconspicuously among the guests he had come in fancy-dress, a monk’s garb with the hood drawn forward over his head. He had assured her light-heartedly that there was nothing to fear, adding that a colleague of his was keeping watch out of doors.
Her eyes strayed to the drawn curtains at the distant end of the room. Was it from there that the first move was to be made? She had received no further instructions, and her complete ignorance of the course Lord John had decided to take made her suspense the more difficult to endure.