Dr. Hatherley nodded.
"What do you know of them? As a matter of fact, I've been a little worried," continued Dr. Crane, "that my old friend Woodford's daughter went to their house: whispers have reached me of some mystery attaching to the place. It certainly seems an out-of-the-way spot for a man, whom I believe is a gentleman of means, to live in."
"Yes—he's wealthy, but there is a reason—but remember, Crane—I repeat it, if I divulge to you Medhurst's story, I do it in confidence. He was my friend—and I am his friend while I have breath."
"I quite understand, and will fully respect the confidence whatever it is," answered Dr. Crane. The last words—"I am his friend"—and the warm tone of the speaker's voice, had done a good deal to reassure the listener.
"Medhurst was at school and college with me, one of the best and straightest chaps one could ever meet, and we were closely in touch with one another after our 'Varsity days. Then he went abroad for a few years, travelling for the sole purpose of seeing the world—money, of course, being no object. We corresponded at first, and then it dropped, and I lost sight of him, until he surprised me one day by writing to announce his approaching marriage with a girl, half Spanish by birth, whom he had met abroad, and who was staying with friends in town at that moment.
"Well, to make a long story short, I was invited to the wedding, which shortly after took place, and in fact to be Gordon's best man. It was then I saw Lucille Don Rosa for the first time, and I was not surprised at my friend's infatuation, for she was a very beautiful girl, but with a proud cold beauty and a detached air which made me wonder even then if my friend had made a mistake in his choice.
"However, time passed, and I saw little of them; they lived in a society whirl, and I was, as you know, a hardworking student scarcely in their swim. Then quite suddenly tragedy closed their door of happiness. Lady Crosby held a big reception, they were among the guests, and I, probably through their influence, received an invitation.
"The thing wasn't in my line, but I decided to accept. There was a big crowd, and a Miss Vandevor, an American heiress, was present, wearing a very famous ruby necklace. Of course detectives mingled with the crowd. Before the evening was half over all exits were closed, and it was announced that Miss Vandevor's necklace had been stolen—unclasped from her throat in the crush.
"The suggestion was then made that we men should turn out our pockets—and, Crane, I can tell you this, during those moments I received the biggest shock of my life, for Medhurst, before any detective approached him, took the gems from his pocket, and in a dead kind of voice said, 'I see it's hopeless to escape, so I admit I was tempted.' He laid the necklace in the owner's lap, and then stood motionless, facing the crowd almost with a defiant expression it seemed to be, although he was white to his lips.
"His wife fainted dead away, and was carried from the room. I was stunned for the moment, then I moved to his side, and expostulated.