The Chase of the Ruby. Marsh Richard

Holland was silent. He felt that Mr Dumville was in the way, but that he himself was hardly in a position to say so. Miss Bewicke spoke for him.

      'My dear Bryan, when you're in the way we'll let you know. Now, people, will you please sit down?' They seated themselves at table. 'What is this very important thing? – must it out? – or will it keep?'

      Mr Holland reflected. He thought of Letty, and other things. Miss Bewicke seemed disposed to be friendly. Perhaps it was as well there was a third person present. He decided to make the running.

      'It's this way. My uncle's dead.'

      'Your uncle? Mr George Burton? I hope you won't think me dreadful, but I cannot say I'm sorry. He was not a person for whom I entertained feelings of profound respect.'

      'He-he's left rather a peculiar will.'

      'I'm not surprised. I should be surprised at nothing he did which was peculiar. I never knew him do anything which wasn't. Or worse.'

      Mr Holland resolved to plunge.

      'He says you have a ruby ring of his.'

      'He says? – who says?'

      'My uncle-in his will.'

      Miss Bewicke laid down her knife and fork. 'Mr Holland, do I understand that you intend to suggest that I have in my possession another person's property?'

      'It's like this. He had a ruby ring, I know it very well. In his will he says you have it. He may have given it to you for all I know; he did queer things-'

      'Thank you.'

      'I don't mean that.'

      'It doesn't matter. Go on.'

      'Anyhow, it's a condition of his will that I'm to get it back from you, and if I don't get it back within three months of his death I'm to lose his money.'

      'I don't in the least understand you. Will you please be so good as to make yourself quite clear.'

      He made himself as clear as he could, though he did not find it easy. Nor was his explanation well received.

      'Then am I to gather that you have come to me at midnight, hot-foot from Africa, in order to get from me-a ring; a ruby ring?'

      'It doesn't sound very nice, but that's the plain truth of it.'

      'It's very flattering.'

      'Very!'

      The chorus came from Mr Dumville, and was accompanied by a glare.

      'I can only throw myself upon your mercy, Miss Bewicke, and implore you to let me have this ring to save my inheritance.'

      Miss Bewicke resumed her knife and fork, which had all this time been lying idle. There was a change in her manner, which, though subtle, was well defined to Mr Holland's consciousness.

      'By the way, Mr Holland, the other day I heard your name associated with a person called, I think, Broad. Was it merely idle gossip, or do you know anything of a person with a name like that?'

      'I do. I know Miss Broad, and very well. I hope she will be my wife. She has promised that she will.'

      'Ah, you and I know what is the value of such promises, don't we, Mr Holland? Is she any relation to Broad, the teaman, in Mincing Lane?'

      'She is his daughter; his only child.'

      'Indeed! His only child? How delightful! Old Broad has bushels of money. How nice for you, of all men, to be received in such a family.'

      The airy insolence of the tone was meant to sting, and did, though he endeavoured to conceal the fact.

      'You haven't answered my question.'

      'Haven't I? What was your question?'

      'Will you let me have the ring, to save my inheritance?'

      'It's such an odd question-isn't it, Bryan? So mysterious. Melodrama's not at all my line. They say I'm too small. Do you think that I'm too small?'

      'I should imagine that you were better fitted to shine in domestic comedy.'

      His words conveyed a meaning which this time stung her, although she laughed.

      'But, my dear Mr Holland, what do you want with an inheritance when you are going to marry a rich wife-the only child of her father, and he a widower. I'm told that old Broad's a millionaire.'

      'I'm not marrying her for her father's money; nor for her own. Nor do I intend to go to her empty-handed.'

      'How chivalrous you are! So changed!'

      'Am I to have the ring?'

      'Really, Mr Holland, you speak to me as if it were a case of stand and deliver. You can hardly know how your uncle behaved or I do not think you would broach the subject to me at all. In any case it is not one which I can discuss with you. Talk it over with Mr Dumville. Whatever he wishes I will do. I always act on his advice; he is so very wise. Good-night, Mr Holland. So glad to have seen you. Come soon again. Goodnight, Bryan, dear.'

      'But you haven't had any supper.'

      'Mr Holland has taken my appetite away; he has caused my mind to travel back to events which I am always endeavouring to forget. But it doesn't matter. Hear what he has to say, and decide for me. King will let you both out when your discussion's finished.'

      Mr Holland stood up.

      'Miss Bewicke, I am very sorry if I have said anything which has given you pain or offence. Nothing could have been further from my intention.'

      'Thank you.'

      'But this matter which you treat so lightly-'

      'Lightly!'

      'Is to me almost one of life and death. I believe that my uncle has left something like a quarter of a million.'

      'What a sum, Bryan! Doesn't it sound nice?'

      'If I can hand this ring to Mr Collyer-'

      'To whom?'

      'To Mr Collyer, my uncle's solicitor, the money is mine. I have only four days left to do it in.'

      'Four days! Just now you said three months.'

      'The time appointed is three months after my uncle's death. He died on the 23rd of February. I have only just become acquainted with the terms of his will. So in four days it will be decided if I am to be a rich man or a pauper. You see, Miss Bewicke, that my fate is in your hands.'

      'I really cannot discuss the matter with you now. It would make me ill. The strain would be too much for me. I refer you to Mr Dumville. Bryan, dear, I leave the matter entirely in your hands.'

      'Miss Bewicke-'

      Mr Dumville rose.

      'Mr Holland, you have heard what Miss Bewicke has said. So far as she is concerned the discussion is closed. My dear, let me open the door for you.'

      He opened the door for her. She passed out, with her handkerchief to her eyes. A fact on which Mr Dumville commented.

      'You see what you have done, sir-affected her to tears.'

      'To what?'

      'To tears!'

      'Oh!'

      'Well, sir, what have you to say to me?'

      'To you?'

      'Yes, sir, to me. You have said more than enough to Miss Bewicke. Now, perhaps there is something which you would like to say to me, as her affianced husband.'

      'There are one or two things which I should like to say to you, but I am inclined to think that I had better not say them to you here. Nor do I quite see my way to ask you to come outside, though I should like to.'

      Mr Holland was savage, and unwise enough to show it. Mr Dumville, having polished his eyeglass, replaced it in his eye so that he might scan the speaker with a greater show of dignity.

      'What on earth do you mean by talking to me like that? If that's the kind of remark you wish to make the sooner you get away the better.'

      'I am quite of your opinion, Mr Dumville. I shall always