"I do understand," Jack said. "You're a brave girl, and I believe the end will be all right."
He hurried on to talk about Pat, and thus put off the bad moment when she would question him about Pavoya. As nothing had been heard of the missing one and Juliet seemed now even more anxious than angry, Jack decided to confess having telephoned to all the hospitals. It was good news, he insisted, that these enquiries had drawn blank, and he did his best as a comforter by saying that Pat had probably gone off in a huff. People who loved each other flew into rages more easily than those who didn't care. Men of Pat's temperament didn't lie down quietly to be trampled on by their wives. He'd write soon, or send word somehow when his first fury had exploded. Or, at worst, he would communicate with the bank, even if he didn't turn up for work there.
Meanwhile, however, Jack admitted that they mustn't let things slide and merely "hope for the best." Would Juliet like to have a detective engaged—a private one, of course—quietly to make enquiries, in the very unlikely case that something queer had happened?
"Yes, I was going to suggest that," Juliet said in a hard, bright voice which kept back tears. "What about that detective you spoke of—the one who was with Pat and Defasquelle at the club?"
Jack hesitated. "Well, I think we'd better get a chap of our own. You see, possibly he was Pat's man, engaged for the—the pearl business. He mightn't be able to work for us with a whole heart——"
"I know what you mean," Juliet caught Manners up. "Pat's man may know where Pat really is, and lead us off the track, instead of on to it."
"It's just possible," Jack had to agree.
"Would you believe it," the girl veered abruptly to a new subject, "two reporters have called to interview me about the Inner Circle stuff?"
"Impudent beasts!" Manners lashed out. "Of course you didn't receive them?"
"Jack, I did!" said Juliet. "I'll tell you why. Here in the house I've got more and more proof against Pat—or against that woman." Jack winced, but she was not looking at him: her eyes were full of tears. "Still, I'm doing what you told me to do: I'm giving him 'the benefit of the doubt.' Besides—I've my pride, just as Pat has his. There's my father's name. In its way that's as good as the name of Claremanagh, or all the dukes in Britain. I came to this room to-night because Dad loved it so, and I felt as if he were here in spirit, helping me to be strong. He was such a busy man, yet always he had time for me! I can almost hear his voice saying, 'Steady, Jule!' as he used to say when I was in one of my wild moods. I had those newspapermen brought to me here. And I said to one what I said to the other. I admitted that I'd seen the Inner Circle, and I supposed the horrid rag meant us. But I simply laughed at the whole thing! I told them Pavoya came to see me—something about her dance for the Armenians: you know, the roof-garden show Nancy Van Esten's getting up. I said the insinuation about the pearls was nonsense: that I'm an expert, and that they're the realest things I ever saw. I talked about Pat as if we two were the best of friends, and mentioned just casually that he was away for a few days. I was as nice as I could be to the men, though I longed to—to kick them! I'm sure they both went off to their horrid old newspapers to write beautiful things about the family. Don't you think I did right?"