But Barbara’s shriek roused him. “You, again!” he cried. He leaped at her, and, before she could call for help, his hand covered her mouth, and her head was pressed back.
“Don’t make a noise,” another voice said quietly. “My instructions were not to make a scene.”
Townsend felt his own arms seized and drawn down to his sides. The big, blond man, who had interrupted his tête-à-tête with Barbara earlier in the evening, was again by his side. A smaller, dark man stood near him.
“Well, we have got you this time with the goods on you, or pretty close to you,” said the smaller detective, striking a match and looking down at his feet. Just near where they stood, only partially concealed by the dirt, which had been hastily dug up, something brilliant flashed and sparkled.
“Did you think, Mr. Townsend,” laughed Detective Burton quietly, “that you were the only clever person in Newport? These jewels you have just stolen are hardly worth the risk you ran. You might get about twenty-five dollars for the lot. I suppose you didn’t know, since it has become the fashion to have a jewel thief in Newport, it has also become the fashion to wear paste jewels.” The man held the tiara in his hand. “But I will restore them to the rightful owner,” he said. “Mrs. Oliver informed me they were gone, two minutes after you slipped them out of her hair.”
Townsend had not spoken. “Don’t,” he now said, with a shudder, “put those handcuffs on my hands. I will go quietly. I see the game is up—thanks to you!” He turned to Barbara with a snarl. But Ruth and Ralph were standing close by her side.
Barbara was much shaken and frightened by her encounter, but she tried to summon a little of her old spirit. “You do me too much honor, Mr. Townsend,” she answered quietly.
“Where is the Countess Bertouche?” asked Townsend stolidly.
“She is ready to leave Newport with you to-night. Only we persuaded her to get ready a little earlier; indeed, we called upon her this afternoon, while she was at the tournament, and were waiting for her when she got back. She had two or three little trinkets in her possession, which she was holding for you, that we wished to return to their rightful owners. The lady will be able to travel as soon as you are. We think it best not to have any excitement in Newport. By the way,” went on the detective—the three young people were listening breathlessly—“the lady is not such a cool customer as you are. She confessed that she was not a countess, but a poor newspaper woman out of a job, whom you enticed down here to help you. She explained that you had been mailing letters of instruction to her by sending them on to New York and having them remailed to her here. A poor business it has been for both of you, I am thinking.”
“Ruth,” said Barbara, quickly, “it’s too awful! Let us go back to Miss Sallie!”