“You’re not really hurt? I do trust you are not really hurt-and just as you were telling us such an exciting story too. Did you say you had a desk like Margaret’s, and that you actually found something in a secret drawer?”
“All scrooged up,” said Greta, nodding her head. “It was frightfully exciting. But I don’t think I’d better tell you about it, because I’ve just remembered I promised I wouldn’t, so it’s no good your asking me really. And I expect that’s why Charles trod on me-only he needn’t have done it so hard-it hurt frightfully.”
She turned reproachful eyes on Charles, who burst out laughing.
“Greta, if you don’t stop being an enfant terrible, I shall do something worse than tread on you-I shall take you back to the flat and lock you in.”
“How horrid of you! Freddy, isn’t he horrid?”
“He’s a tyrant,” said Freddy. “He’s been travelling amongst savages, and he’s forgotten how to behave. Don’t take any notice of him. We were all getting most excited about your discovery. Don’t take any notice of Charles. Did you say you found a certificate? What sort of certificate?”
Greta shook her head.
“I did really promise I wouldn’t tell, so I won’t. I couldn’t when I’d really promised-could I? But I’ll tell you something I didn’t promise about, something simply frightfully exciting that only happened this evening, and that no one knows anything about but me.”
“Bless my soul!” said Freddy.
Charles leaned back in his chair. He looked at Margaret; but Margaret was looking at Greta with an air part startled, part weary. The weariness was uppermost. He thought she looked worn out, as if she were neither sleeping nor eating. The hastily put on black dress made her seem paler still. Why did she look like that? Her eyes had no fire left in them; they were tired-tired and hopeless.
Greta had begun her story. He reflected that one might just as well try to stop running water.
“It’s frightfully exciting-it really is. And even Charles doesn’t know about it, because it happened after he brought me home, and before Margaret came home.”
“What happened?” It was Margaret who asked.
“Well, Charles brought me home, and-Oh, Freddy, do you know, I really can drive!-Can’t I, Charles? I drove two miles, and Charles never touched the wheel once.”
“What happened after you got home?” This was Archie.
“Well, I thought I’d write to Stephanie and tell her I could drive. So I did. And then I thought I would go out and post it. So I went out, and there was a big car standing just opposite, and the chauffeur walking up and down. And I stopped under the lamp-post just to see if I had stuck my letter down properly, and then I went along to the letter-box. And when I got to the dark bit where the gardens are, I looked back because I heard something, and I saw the car coming along ever so slowly-just crawling, you know. And I thought it was going to stop at one of the houses, and it did. And I ran on to the pillar-box and put my letter in and started to come back. And it was still there.”
Greta’s words came faster and faster, and her cheeks got pinker and pinker. She made Margaret look like a ghost.
“Not very exciting so far,” said Charles drily.
“It’s going to be. You wait. When I got up to the car I did get a fright. The chauffeur spoke to me. He had a sort of growly voice, and he said, ‘Get in quick, miss.’ And I said, ‘It’s not my car.’ And he came after me, and he said I must come quickly because Egbert wanted me to.”
“Oh, Lord!” said Charles to himself.
Freddy said, “Egbert?” in a mild puzzled way.
“Oh, I oughtn’t to have said that! But you won’t tell anyone-will you? And Archie won’t. And I really didn’t mean to say his name, but it’s so frightfully difficult to remember all the things I mustn’t say. You’ll be frightfully nice-won’t you, and forget about my saying Egbert-won’t you?”
Freddy assured her that he had already forgotten.
“The fellow spoke to you-dash his impudence! And then what happened?”
“He said my cousin wanted me. It’ll be all right if I say my cousin, won’t it? I needn’t say his name.”
“What happened?” said Archie.
“I simply ran, and I gave a sort of scream. And he said, ‘Don’t make a noise.’ And I made a louder scream and simply ran like anything. And he caught my arm. Wasn’t it frightful? Only just then two cars came along out of that little crescent, and that frightened him, and he let go, and I never stopped running till I got home. Wasn’t it a frightful adventure?”
CHAPTER XXIX
Dinner was over at last. Charles had never endured forty minutes more crowded with indiscretions. He was reduced to a condition of exasperated resignation. After all, neither Freddy nor Archie mattered; but unless one locked the creature up, she would prattle in the same artless way to anyone she met. He thought of uninhabited islands with yearning, and of Margaret with rage. If it were not for Margaret he would not be mixed up in this damned affair at all.
The girls went upstairs to put on their coats. Freddy fussed away to see if the car had come round. Archie turned a reproachful eye on Charles.
“Why teach an innocent child to practise concealments?”
Charles had no reply but a frown.
“Why keep me out of it anyhow? Why pretend?”
“What are you driving at?”
“Well, she’s Margot Standing, isn’t she?”
“You guessed when she said ‘Egbert’?”
“I guessed the second time I saw her,” said Archie. “She wants a whole heap of practice before she can conceal anythin’. Does Freddy know?”
“I expect he does by now. Egbert isn’t the sort of name most fellows would be seen dead in a ditch with. Look here, Archie, I want to talk to you. What about after the show? We can take the girls home, and then you come round to ‘The Luxe’ with me.”
Archie nodded, and Freddy came, back into the room. Upstairs Greta clutched Margaret by the arm.
“He never showed us the miniature. Margaret, I do want to see your mother’s miniature so badly.”
“Why should you want to see it?” Her tone said plainly. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“I want to see it frightfully. When I saw Esther Brandon written on that bit of paper, it gave me a most frightfully excited sort of feeling. I simply must see her miniature. Where is it? Can’t you show it to me?”
“It’s in Freddy’s study,” said Margaret in a slow, flat voice.
“Show it to me quickly! Oh, do put on your coat and come and show it to me!”
She fairly danced down the stairs, looking back over her shoulder and urging Margaret to hurry.
The study was one of those built-out rooms half-way down the stair-a fussy, untidy place full of photographs, pipes, guns, fishing-rods, stamp-albums, old bound magazines, and a chaotic muddle of letters and bills.
“Freddy’s hopeless,” said Margaret.
“Where’s the miniature?”
“On his writing-table.” She moved The Times and two picture papers as she spoke. Under the papers was a tall old-fashioned miniature case. It had folding doors that could be locked. The doors were shut.
“Oh!” said Greta. She caught at the table and leaned on it. “Oh, it’s Papa’s! Oh, Margaret, it’s Papa’s!”
Margaret just stood and looked at it.
“Margaret, it is Papa’s! Oh, do open it!”
“What are you talking about?” said Margaret very slowly.
“Papa had a case just like this. It stood on his table. I told Mr. Hale about it. I only saw inside it once-just a peep. Oh, Margaret, do open it-do!”
Margaret put her hand on the case.
“It’s locked, Greta.”
“Get him to open it. Oh, I do want to see what’s inside!”
“I can’t do that.”
“Papa’s had diamonds all round it. Has this one got diamonds all round it?”