The marquis’ face seemed to grow gray; then he laughed a dry, harsh laugh.
“The ring is missing,” he said, almost inaudibly. “It went with——”
“No, no,” cut in Spenser Churchill, softly. “I saw it at the bottom of the box a moment ago; but, really, my dear Cecil,” he continued, hurriedly, as if to prevent the marquis contradicting him, “I don’t think they would suit dear Lady Grace as well as some of these other things. Now, if I might suggest, may I?” and, with smooth deftness, he took the case from him and picked out a diamond and ruby bracelet. “Now, that is the kind of thing which would please dear Lady Grace. These pearls will be more suitable when she is married.”
The marquis took the bracelet, and Lord Cecil fancied that the clawlike hands trembled slightly, and looked at it absently. Then he dropped it on the table and turned aside with listless indifference.
“The pearl suite will do,” he said, curtly. “Take it and give it to her. Will you be good enough to send my man to me?” he added, as a hint that he desired to be rid of their presence.
“Good-day, sir, and thank you,” said Cecil, moving to the door.
“Stop, my dear Cecil—the safe. You must put those jewels away and lock it, you know.”
“Let him go. You can lock it,” said the marquis, with icy impatience.
“Oh, Cecil will lock it,” murmured Spenser Churchill. “I am going to get some lunch, marquis,” and with a nod he went to the door, but there he turned. “Oh, would you like a newspaper, marquis?” he asked, and as he waited for the reply he watched Cecil lock the safe and deposit the keys in the cabinet drawer.
“No!” answered the marquis, almost fiercely, and the two men went out.