It was by this time almost three o'clock, so I went immediately down to John's house. As I was waiting in the ante-chambre for the maître d'hôtel to announce me, Miss Dalghren came out of the library. I bowed and she gave me a cold nod.
“You will be glad to learn, Miss Dalghren,” said I, “that I have recovered Mrs. Cuttynge's pearls. They are in my pocket.”
The colour flamed in her face.
“I thought that you would,” she answered.
“Permit me to suggest,” said I, “that hereafter both of you ladies keep your jewels in a safe place—where they will not be a temptation to weak vessels like myself.”
Her face hardened. “Mine are now in the safe deposit,” says she, “and there is no doubt that John will do the same with Edith's,” and without so much as a nod she passed on through the dining-room portières.
The maître d'hôtel returned at this moment to ask me to go right up. I found John in bed. He looked very badly.
“Shut the door and lock it, Frank,” said he, in a querulous voice. “Pull up a chair by the bed. I want to talk to you.”
I did as he directed. As soon as I was seated John turned to me, raising himself on one elbow. His face was ghastly and his lips trembled before he spoke.
“Frank,” says he, “it was I who stole Edith's pearls.”
“I know it,” I answered.
His eyes got wild. “What?” he cried. “How—how—does anybody else know it? How did you find out?”
“Lie down,” said I, “and keep quiet. I'll give you the whole yarn.”
John sank back against his pillows with a groan. I started in with the story, telling him everything except the names of Léontine and Ivan. Before I had finished, John's face changed for the better. The dull look had gone out of his eyes and they had grown hard and bright. There was a tinge of colour in his cheeks and his jaw was set. When I had finished he reached out one hand and gave me a grip that hurt.
“My word!” he muttered, “what a man you are,” and added a lot of truck unnecessary to repeat. For several minutes he lay there, soaking in what I had told him. Then says he:
“You must get out of the country right off, Frank. Your life is in danger every minute here.”
“I'm leaving this evening,” said I, for I had decided not to tell him about my plan for stalking Chu-Chu. If anything were to go wrong he would always look upon himself as my murderer.
“You must clear out for awhile yourself, John. We look too much alike for your safety.”
“No,” says he, “I'll stop here;” and his jaw stiffened again.
I did my best to persuade him to go if only for the sake of Edith, but he was set as solid as the pyramid of Cheops.
“I've brought all of this mess on both of us,” says he. “I'll take the consequences. Besides, this thug knows about me and won't run any unnecessary bother and risk. I'm in no great danger.”
Well, sir, there was no budging him, and that made me all the more impatient to get on the warpath after Chu-Chu. It was now not only a measure of self-preservation, but an imperative duty.
Finally, says John, in a dull voice:
“Edith must know the truth.”
“Edith must know nothing of the sort,” I cried, fiercely. “Man, it would kill her—and you know it.”
A shiver went through John. “I owe it to you—” he began.
“You owe nothing to me,” said I. “You saved me a life sentence. We are quits with each other—but we both owe everything to Edith. Besides, what's the use? She doesn't suspect me.”
“She does now,” said John, in a hollow voice.
“What?” I cried. “She does? Since when?”
“Since this morning. Mary Dalghren saw me slipping out of the house just after I stole the pearls. She came over from the studio to get something in the house. She took me for you. When I came in at three of the morning she was waiting up. She told me what she had seen and I begged her to say nothing about it to Edith. But this morning she told her. I couldn't stand that. I thought that they would lay the robbery to your old gang, not to you.”
I got up and walked to the window. Chu-Chu, John, the danger to my life—all of this was nothing. Edith thought that I had broken my word to her. Edith thought that I had stolen her pearls.