The maid seemed to find this somewhat difficult; but Miss Schuyler had seen a strip of red leather between the fingers of one hand, and understanding why it was so, went out thoughtfully. She knew the appearance of a jewel-case tolerably well, and had more than a suspicion as to whom the girl had obtained it from. Miss Schuyler, who would not have believed Clavering’s assertion about the trinket had she heard it, wondered what he expected in exchange for it, which perhaps accounted for the fact that she contrived to overtake him in the corridor at the head of the stairs.
“When you left Hetty and me alone we understood it was because Mr. Torrance was waiting for you,” she said.
“Yes,” said Clavering, smiling. “It is scarcely necessary to explain that if he hadn’t been I would not have gone. I fancied he was in the hall.”
Flora Schuyler nodded as though she believed him, but she determined to leave no room for doubt. “He is in his office,” she said. “Have you the deerskin cigar-case you showed us with you? You will remember I was interested in the Indian embroidery.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t,” said Clavering. “Torrance’s cigars are better than mine, so I usually leave mine at home. But I’ll bring the case next time, and if you would like to copy it, I could get you a piece of the dressed hide from one of the Blackfeet.”
He turned away, and Flora Schuyler decided not to tell Hetty what she had heard—Hetty was a little impulsive occasionally—but it seemed to Miss Schuyler that it would be wise to watch her maid and Clavering closely.
In the meantime, the man walked away towards Torrance’s office, considering what the maid had told him. He had found it difficult to credit, but her manner had convinced him, and he realized that he could not afford the delay he had hitherto considered advisable. A young woman, he reflected, would scarcely send a wallet of dollars at night to a man whose plans were opposed to her father’s without a strong motive, and the fact that Hetty wore a chain hidden about her neck had its meaning. He had, like most of his neighbours, laughed at Larry’s hopeless devotion, but he had seen similar cases in which the lady at last relented, and while he knew Hetty’s loyalty to her own people, and scarcely thought that she had more than a faint, tolerant tenderness for Larry, it appeared eminently desirable to prevent anything of that kind happening. Torrance, who was sitting smoking, glanced at him impatiently when he went in.
“You have been a long while,” he said.
“I have a sufficient excuse, sir,” said Clavering.
“Well,” said Torrance drily, “they are quite clever girls, but I have found myself wishing lately they were a long way from here. That, however, is not what I want to talk about. Apparently none of us can get hold of Larry.”