"Well," he answered quickly, "but that was before--" He caught himself
and went on with a scarcely perceptible break: "He may have had a better
offer for it since."
He couldn't have put it more mildly, and yet that temperate phrase
brought back to her in a flash a windy night full of raucous voices and
the great figures in the paper that had covered half a page--the reward
for the Crew Idol. Could it be that--that sum so overwhelming to human
caution and human decency which Harry had cloaked by his grudging phrase
"some better offer"? What else could he mean? And what else could the
blue-eyed Chinaman mean by his strange pursuit of her?
"Some one must have wanted it awfully," Flora tried again, keeping step
with his mild admission.
Harry covered her with an impressive stare. "There's something queer
about that ring," he nodded to her. He was going to tell her at last!
She gazed at him in expectation, but presently she realized that nothing
more was coming. He had stopped at the beginning. She tried to urge him
on.
"Queer, what do you mean?" She was feigning surprise.
He looked at her cautiously. "Why, you must have noticed it yourself
when we were at the shop. And now, to-night, his having followed you."
She could see him hesitate, choosing his words. She knew well enough her
own fear of saying too much--but, what was Harry afraid of? Did he
suspect her feeling for Kerr? Was that why he was holding back, leaving
out, giving her the small, expurgated version of what he knew. She tried
again, making it plainer.
"You think the ring is something he ought not to have had; something
that belongs somewhere else?"
He looked away from her, around the room, as if to pick up his answer
from some of the corners. "Well, anyway, it's lucky we waited about that
setting," he said with quick irrelevance. "If you're going to be annoyed
in this way you'd better let me have it."
Why hadn't she thought of that! It was what any man might say, after
hearing such a story as hers, yet it was the last thing she had thought
of, and the last thing she wanted.
"Oh, leave it with me," she quavered, "at least till you're sure!"
"Oh, no!" He gave his head a quick, decided shake. "If something should
come out you wouldn't want to be mixed up in it."
"Then why not give it back to the Chinaman?" she tried him.
"Oh, that's ridiculous." He was in a passion. His darkening eyes, his
swelling nostrils, his aspect so out of proportion to her mild and
almost playful suggestion, frightened her. He saw it and instantly his
mood dropped to mere irritation. "Oh, Flora, don't make a scene about
it. This thing has been on my mind for days--the thought that you had
the ring. I was afraid I had no business to let you have it in the first
place, and what you've told me to-night has clean knocked me out. I
don't know what I'm saying. Come, let me have it; and if there's
anything queer about the business, at least we'll get it cleared up."
But, smiling, she retreated before him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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