II
He was listening to the distant rhythm of the music when he mistily comprehended that there was no music and that the sounds in his ear were not musical. He could not believe that he had been asleep and had awakened, but the facts were soon too much for his delusion and he said with the air of a discoverer: "I've been asleep," and turned on the light.
There were voices and footsteps in the corridors or on the landing,—whispers, loud and yet indistinct talking, tones indicating that the speakers were excited, if not frightened, and that their thoughts had been violently wrenched away from the pursuit of pleasure. His watch showed two o'clock. The party was over, the last automobile had departed, and probably even the tireless Eliza Fiddle was asleep in her new home. Next Mr. Prohack noticed that the door of his room was ajar.
He had no anxiety. Rather he felt quite gay and careless,—the more so as he had wakened up with the false sensation of complete refreshment produced by short, heavy slumber. He thought:
"Whatever has happened, I have had and shall have nothing to do with it, and they must deal with the consequences themselves as best they can." And as a measure of precaution against being compromised, he switched off the light. He heard Eve's voice, surprisingly near his door:
"I simply daren't tell him! No, I daren't!"
The voice was considerably agitated, but he smiled maliciously to himself, thinking:
"It can't be anything very awful, because she only talks in that strain when it's nothing at all. She loves to pretend she's afraid of me. And moreover I don't believe there's anything on earth she daren't tell me."
He heard another voice, reasoning in reply, that resembled Mimi's. Hadn't that girl gone home yet? And he heard Sissie's voice and Charlie's. But for him all these were inarticulate.
Then his room was filled with swift blinding light. Somebody had put a hand through the doorway and turned the light on. It must be Eve.... It was Eve, scared and distressed, but still in complete war-paint.
"I'm so relieved you're awake, Arthur," she said, approaching the bed as though she anticipated the bed would bite her.
"I'm not awake. I'm asleep, officially. My poor girl, you've ruined the finest night I was ever going to have in all my life."
She ignored his complaint, absolutely.
"Arthur," she said, her face twitching in every direction, and all her triumph fallen from her, "Arthur, I've lost my pearls. They're gone! Some one must have taken them!"
Mr. Prohack's reaction to this piece of more-than-midnight news was to break into hearty and healthy laughter; he appeared to be genuinely diverted; and when Eve protested against such an attitude he said:
"My child, anything that strikes you as funny after being wakened up at two o'clock in the morning is very funny, very funny indeed. How can I help laughing?" Eve thereupon began to cry, weakly.
"Come here, please," said he.
And she came and sat on the bed, but how differently from the previous visit! She was now beaten by circumstances, and she turned for aid to his alleged more powerful mind and deeper wisdom. In addition to being amused, the man was positively happy, because he was no longer a mere complement! So he comforted her, and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Don't worry," said he, gently. "And after all I'm not surprised the necklace has been pinched."
"Not surprised? Arthur!"
"No. You collect here half the notorious smart people in London. Fifty per cent of them go through one or other of the Courts; five per cent end by being detected criminals, and goodness knows what per cent end by being undetected criminals. Possibly two per cent treat marriage seriously, and possibly one per cent is not in debt. That's the atmosphere you created, and it's an atmosphere in which pearls are apt to melt away. Hence I am not surprised, and you mustn't be. Still, it would be interesting to know how the things melted away. Were you wearing them?"
"Of course I was wearing them. There was nothing finer here to-night—that I saw."
"You hadn't got them on when you came in here before."
"Hadn't I?" said Eve, thoughtful.
"No, you hadn't."
"Then why didn't you tell me?" Eve demanded suddenly, almost fiercely, through her tears, withdrawing her shoulders from his hands.
"Well," said Mr. Prohack. "I thought you'd know what you'd got on, or what you hadn't got on."
"I think you might have told me. If you had perhaps the—"
Mr. Prohack put his hand over her mouth.
"Stop," said he. "My sweet child, I can save you a lot of trouble. It's all my fault. If I hadn't been a miracle of stupidity the necklace would never have disappeared. This point being agreed to, let us go on to the next. When did you find out your sad loss?"
"It was Miss Winstock who asked me what I'd done with my necklace. I put my hand to my throat, and it was gone. It must have come undone."
"Didn't you say to me a fortnight or so ago that the little safety-chain had gone wrong?"
"Did I?" said Eve, innocently.
"Did you have the safety-chain repaired?"
"I was going to have it done to-morrow. You see, if I'd sent it to be done to-day, then I couldn't have worn the necklace to-night, could I?"
"Very true," Mr. Prohack concurred.
"But who could have taken it?"
"Ah! Are you sure that it isn't lying on the floor somewhere?"
"Every place where I've been has been searched—thoroughly. It's quite certain that it must have been picked up and pocketed."
"Then by a man, seeing that women have no pockets—except their husbands'. I'm beginning to feel quite like a detective already. By the way, lady, the notion of giving a reception in a house like this without a detective disguised as a guest was rather grotesque."
"But of course I had detectives!" Eve burst out. "I had two private ones. I thought one ought to be enough, but as soon as the agents saw the inventory of knicknacks and things, they advised me to have two men. One of them's here still. In fact he's waiting to see you. The Scotland Yard people are very annoying. They've refused to do anything until morning."
That Eve should have engaged detectives was something of a blow to the masculine superiority of Mr. Prohack. However, he kept himself in countenance by convincing himself in secret that she had not thought of the idea; the idea must have been given to her by another person—probably Mimi, who nevertheless was also a woman.
"And do you seriously expect me to interview a detective in the middle of the night?" demanded Mr. Prohack.
"He said he should like to see you. But of course if you don't feel equal to it, my poor boy, I'll tell him so."
"What does he want to see me for? I've nothing to do with it, and I know nothing."
"He says that as you bought the necklace he must see you—and the sooner the better."
This new aspect of the matter seemed to make Mr. Prohack rather thoughtful.