"So that is what you were talking about?" he said. "Upon my word, it is exceedingly handsome. I should like to know the history of that jewel. But didn't it strike you as strange that an unknown man should have made you a present of the missing part of the ornament?"
"I don't know," Beatrice said indifferently. "Nothing strikes me as strange to-night. To begin with, it was such a remarkable gathering of people. Everything seemed to be so free and easy that I was bewildered. You may laugh at me as you like, but when Mr. Uzali produced the missing half, I was not in the least astonished."
Flower was about to ask a question when he altered his mind. He was leading up to a point cautiously.
"That being so," he said with assumed carelessness, "the man who made you this gift ought to have been rather an uncommon person to look at. What was he like? Did he resemble an adventurer or soldier of fortune? Was he a foreigner, or an actor, or what? As far as I could judge, though I was a long way off, he seemed a little insignificant man."
There was a forced gaiety in the speaker's voice which did not deceive Beatrice.
"You are right," she said. "Mr. Uzali is a little man, and very plain, with features not unlike those of a good-looking monkey, yellow face and hands more like a bird's claw than anything else."
"Ah!" Flower exclaimed. "And his speech?"
"His speech told me nothing. His English was as good as yours or mine. Mr. Uzali is a polished man of the world and as much at home in this country as in his own. But I thought it odd that his hand should be exactly like the one which I saw that night in the conservatory trying to find the latch of the door. But you need not be unduly curious. Indeed, I understood Mr. Uzali to express a wish to make your acquaintance."
"He wants to know me?" Flower murmured. "He is anxious to come here—the thing is preposterous. My dear child, you don't know what you are talking about."
Flower paused as if conscious that he was saying too much. The dark mood had come back upon him. He paced up and down the dining-room muttering. Then once more he realized that he was not alone, for he turned almost savagely to Beatrice and pointed to the clock on the mantel.