“May I ask what earthly business it is of yours?” demanded Tom.
“The bracelet happens to belong to my daughter, Pauline,” was the calm reply.
Hardly able to believe his ears, Tom sat back in his chair and glared at Calhoun-Cooper.
“I was motoring down from Baltimore Christmas afternoon, and was arrested for speeding just after your release,” continued the Representative, receiving no response from his dumfounded companion. “While paying my fine I saw and recognized Pauline’s bracelet lying on the desk before the Justice of the Peace. He informed me it had been left there by Miss Marjorie Langdon.” Tom’s convulsive start was not lost on Calhoun-Cooper. “Will you kindly tell me how your cousin obtained possession of my daughter’s bracelet?”
Tom stared stupidly at his questioner. “You’re cra—crazy,” he stuttered. “My cou—cousin left her—left her own bracelet with the Justice.”
“She did no such thing,” shortly. “I examined the bracelet carefully; it belonged to my mother before I gave it to my daughter, and her initials, my father’s, and the date of the wedding are engraved on the inside of the bracelet. There was no possibility of my being mistaken. Did you redeem the bracelet?”
“Yes.”
“Let me see it?” holding out his hand.
“I can’t; I’ve returned it....”
“In that case,” slowly, “suppose we ask Miss Langdon for it.”