Nothing But the Truth

“Well, if you want to be tiresome.” She gave him the hand that didn’t hold the ring.

“Impulsive! Charming!” he said, bending his monocle owlishly over the soft pink palm. “Now the other?”

“Won’t!” she returned succinctly.

Bob drew yet nearer. He believed she was quite capable of carrying out that threat of swallowing it.

“But how can I complete telling your fortune – aw! – unless I see the other hand?” expostulated the monocle-man with a pleasant smile. “I desire especially to examine the Mount of Venus.”

“There isn’t any mountain any more,” said the jolly little pal. “It’s been moved away.”

“Aw! How interesting! Then we might survey the vale of friendship.”

She looked around like a bird in a snare; the hammer-man was not far away and impulsively she flew over to him.

“Was this our dance? I’m so forgetful!”

“It wasn’t, but it is,” he returned with a smile. Obviously he was flattered. Heretofore Miss Dolly had not acted particularly prepossessed by the hammer-thrower; he hadn’t any temperament – so she thought; he didn’t swing one around with enough abandon. He was one of those serious goody-goody dancers. He swung Miss Dolly very seriously now; they went so slowly for her that once she stumbled over his feet. It was evident their temperaments didn’t match. Or maybe what she held in one hand had made her terribly self-conscious. Bob watched them gloomily. He feared she might swallow it during the dance, but she didn’t, for the little hand was partly closed still when she left the hammer-thrower and Bob gazed around for that confounded monocle-man. The latter, however, had apparently lost interest in palm-reading and the temperamental little thing, for he was nowhere to be seen. Miss Dolly’s eyes were at once frightened and strange when she fluttered again to Bob’s side.

“Oh, I’ve done the most awful thing,” she confided quite breathlessly to him.

“You – you haven’t swallowed it?” he exclaimed in alarm. He thought he had watched her closely, but still she might have found opportunity – she might have made a swift movement to her lips which he had failed to observe.

“No, I haven’t swallowed it,” she answered. “I’ve done worse.”

“Worse? What could be worse?”

“I slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.”

“Whose? The hammer-thrower? No? By jove! – ”

“I did it when I tripped. And I tripped purposely, and when he was very gallant and kept me from falling, I – I slipped it in. And isn’t it awful? Poor man! He’s such a goody-good. You don’t mind, do you?” Anxiously.

“Oh, I mind a heap,” said Bob jovially. “Ho! ho!”

“I was afraid you might scold.”

“Scold? No, indeed. I’m awfully obliged and I only wish I could do something for you to show how thankful I am.”

“Do you? Then you might – ” She gazed toward the conservatory where it was dim and shadowy. “No; it wouldn’t do. We’re not engaged any more. Besides – ” And she looked toward a straight proud figure with golden hair. She didn’t finish what she was going to say. Only – “I guess I won’t make you,” she added.

“Thanks,” said Bob. “You’re sure the best pal a chap ever had. But honest! I hate to be mean and disappoint you after all you’ve done. And I might volunteer, if you’d make it just one – or, at the most, two.”

A moment the temperamental little thing seemed to waver. Then the rosebud lips set more firmly. “No,” she said. “It’s awfully dear of you to offer, but I don’t want any. You’ve made me see the error of my ways. I’ve reformed. I only want to be your jolly little pal. But you haven’t any conscientious scruples about the way I disposed of it, have you?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject.

“Conscientious scruples? Not one. Ho! ho!”

But the laughter faded suddenly from Bob’s lips. At that moment the hammer-thrower chanced to put his fingers in his waistcoat pocket. Then he gave a slight start and glanced toward the temperamental little thing; his brow was lowering, and he appeared to meditate. Bob knew there must be murder in his heart. Just then from across the room, Bob saw the monocle-man approaching the hammer-thrower.

The latter cast a swift look toward him of the monocle. It was the look of a man who for the first time, perhaps, fully realizes, or begins to realize certain unexpected forces arrayed against him. He now had the ring and he dared not keep it. If he had never entertained any suspicions regarding the monocle-man’s identity before, there was something about the other now that awoke sudden and secret misgivings. The monocle-man didn’t make much of a point of disguising his watchfulness at the present time. That was odd – unless he didn’t greatly care just now whether any one guessed his identity or not. Possibly the psychological moment was approaching.

The hammer-thrower thought, no doubt, that Bob had told the temperamental little thing that he (the hammer-man) had taken the ring from Miss Gerald’s room and Miss Dolly had offered to return it to the hammer-thrower. And she had found a way to do so. It was clever. But the hammer-thrower was not in a mood to appreciate the grim jest. Now that the tables were turned, Bob and Miss Dolly would make it their business to see that the glittering trifle was found in his possession. The hammer-thrower couldn’t dispose of it under the circumstances; he was in exactly the same predicament Bob had been in. Suddenly he seemed to make up his mind what to do; he adopted the most daring expedient. In those few moments he had done some very rapid thinking. He stepped toward Miss Gerald now, his face wearing its most reliable expression. Honesty fairly radiated from his square solid countenance.

“Miss Gerald,” he said, “may I speak with you privately?”

“Is it important?” she asked.

“Very!” in his most serious manner.

She complied with his request, and they withdrew from the hearing of others.

“Miss Gerald,” he began abruptly, “have you lost a ring?”

She gazed at him in surprise.

“I have.”

“Is this it? I believe I recognize it as one you have worn.”

“It is.” Gwendoline’s look swerved toward Bob. “But – ” she began.

“You do not understand how it came in my possession?” he asked, in an even monotonous tone.

“I certainly did not think that you – ”

“You didn’t think I had it?” Seriously.

“I did not.” And again she looked toward Bob.

“I did not know I had it myself,” he observed gravely, “until just this minute. You believe me, I trust?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, “I believe you. But how – ?” Again she paused.

“Did I come by it? A certain young lady I danced with just now placed it in my waistcoat pocket.”

The hammer-thrower held himself squarely, with a poise that expressed rectitude. He was rather well satisfied with what he had done. He argued that his action, from Miss Gerald’s point of view, must be that of an innocent man. If he (the hammer-thrower) had taken the ring it wasn’t likely he would step up to Miss Gerald and offer it back to her. His bold move complicated the issue; but he did not doubt, however, that he would emerge from the affair with credit.

“Of course I am aware that it is a serious charge to make,” went on the hammer-thrower, “but what was I to do? I never was put in a more painful position.”

“Painful, indeed,” replied Miss Gerald sympathetically. “Of course it was a joke.”

“I am glad you take that view of it,” he replied. “You can see that naturally I found it deucedly awkward. Things have been disappearing in so many country-houses, don’t you know. It wouldn’t have been a joke for me if I hadn’t fortunately discovered it as I did. Under the circumstances, I don’t really appreciate Miss Dolly’s jokes.”

“But mightn’t it have been some one else?” suggested Gwendoline.

“I danced only with you and Miss Dolly.”

“Well, naturally, it wouldn’t be I,” said Gwendoline with a smile. “There’s Dolly now talking with Mr. Bennett and Lord Stanfield, Suppose we speak to her. But I wouldn’t have any one else know for the world. I’m really very sorry Dolly’s heedlessness should have caused one of my aunt’s guests any embarrassment.” Miss Gerald was graciousness itself.