Beatrice complied. She was quite excited now. All her strange fears had fallen from her. With trembling fingers she removed the pendant from its slender gold chain and laid it on the tablecloth. Wilfrid reached over and fitted the broken pieces together. He could see that they matched to a nicety.
"Not the slightest doubt about it," he exclaimed. "These two pieces once formed one jewel. Now whom does it belong to? Mr. Uzali, do you claim the whole thing? Are you going to hand over your half to Miss Galloway?"
"I wasn't thinking of doing either for the moment," Uzali said coolly. "But I am going to ask Miss Galloway to trust her portion into my hands so that I can get the ornament mended, when I hope she will allow me to send her the jewel intact. All I ask in return is that Miss Galloway will inquire of her uncle how the moth found its way into his hands."
"Perhaps you know already," Beatrice smiled. But Uzali was not to be drawn. He shook his head.
"I do not claim any occult powers," he said. "I merely said that there are wise men in my country who possess them. And now, if you will be good enough to give your portion of the moth to me I will let you have it in a few days restored to its original beauty."
Beatrice hesitated. Yet, why not comply? The request had been made tastefully and in good faith. It was a graceful thing to do and her moth had always fascinated her. She handed her portion to Uzali with a smile.
"It is exceedingly good of you," she said, "and I am obliged by your kindness. I am equally justified in handing my half of the treasure over to you——"
"But I don't wear that kind of thing," Uzali protested. "Now give me your address so that I may carry out my promise. Miss Marcombe, are you ready? I think the next dance is ours."
The Malay had vanished before Beatrice could say more. Her excitement had passed away. She looked at Wilfrid with troubled eyes. Had she done wrong?
"Leave it to Providence," Wilfrid said answering her unspoken thoughts. "The Malay, at least, meant well."