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Page 25
"You are ill," he said, anxiously. "You look ill. Please let me take
care of you. There is a house back there--let me--" but she interrupted:
"I'm not ill, and I won't be fussed over. I'm not exactly right, but I
will be in a few minutes. The best thing for me is just to rest here and
have you talk to me. Tell me that story you are so slow about."
He took her at her word. Lying at full length at her feet--his head
propped on a hillock so that he might look into her face, one of his
hands against the hem of her white dress,--the shadows of the cedars
swept back and forth across him, the south sea glittered beyond the
sand-dunes, and he told the story.
"Mr. Litterny was in his office in the early afternoon of February 18,"
he began, "when a man called him up on the telephone. Mr. Litterny did
not recognize the voice, but the man stated at once that he was Burr
Claflin, whose name you may know. He is a rich broker, and a personal
friend of both the Litternys. Voice is so uncertain a quantity over a
telephone that it did not occur to Mr. Litterny to be suspicious on that
point, and the conversation was absolutely in character otherwise. The
talker used expressions and a manner of saying things which the jeweller
knew to be characteristic of Claflin.
"He told Mr. Litterny that he had just made a lucky hit in stocks, and
'turned over a bunch of money,' as he put it, and that he wanted to make
his wife a present. 'Now--this afternoon--this minute,' he said, which
was just like Burr Claflin, who is an impetuous old chap. 'I want to
give her a diamond brooch, and I want her to wear it out to dinner
to-night,' he said. 'Can't you send two or three corkers up to the house
for me?' That surprised Mr. Litterny and he hesitated, but finally said
that he would do it. It was against the rules of the house, but as it
was for Mr. Claflin he would do it. They had a little talk about the
details, and Claflin arranged to call up his wife and tell her that the
jewels would be there at four-thirty, so that she could look out for
them personally. All that was the Litterny end of the affair. Simple
enough, wasn't it?"
Katherine's eyes were so intent, so brilliant, that Norman North went on
with a pleased sense that he told the tale well:
"Now begins the Claflin experience. At half past four a clerk from
Litterny's left a package at the Claflin house in Cleveland Avenue,
which was at once taken, as the man desired, to Mrs. Claflin. She opened
it and found three very handsome diamond brooches, which astonished her
extremely, as she knew nothing about them. However, it was not unusual
for Claflin to give her jewelry, and he is, as I said, an impulsive man,
so that unexpected presents had come once or twice before; and
altogether, being much taken with the stones, she concluded simply that
she would understand when her husband came home to dinner.
"However, her hopes were dashed, for twenty minutes later, barely long
enough for the clerk to have got back to the shop, she was called to the
telephone by a message, said to be from Litterny's, and a most polite
and apologetic person explained over the line that a mistake had been
made; that the diamonds had been addressed and sent to her by an error
of the shipping-clerk; that they were not intended for Mrs. Burr
Claflin, but for Mrs. Bird Catlin, and that the change in name had been
discovered on the messenger's return. Would Mrs. Claflin pardon the
trouble caused, and would she be good enough to see that the package was
given to their man, who would call for it in fifteen minutes? Now the
Catlins, as you must know, are richer people even than the Claflins, so
that the thing was absolutely plausible. Mrs. Claflin tied up the jewels
herself, and entrusted them to her own maid, who has been with her for
years, and this woman answered the door and gave the parcel into the
hands of a man who said that he was sent from Litterny's for it. All
that the maid could say of him was that he was 'a pretty young man, with
a speech like a gentleman.' And that was the last that has been seen of
the diamond brooches. Wasn't it simple? Didn't I tell you that this
affair was an artistic one?" North demanded.
Katherine Newbold drew a deep breath, and the story-teller, watching her
face, saw that she was stirred with an emotion which he put down, with a
slight surprise, to interest in his narrative.
"Is there no clew to the--thief? Have they no idea at all? Haven't those
wonderful detectives yet got on--his track?"
North shook his head. "I had a letter by yesterday's boat from Mr.
Litterny about another matter, and he spoke of this. He said the police
were baffled--that he believed now that it could never be traced."
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