“Of course I will not mention the matter to outsiders,” she said. “But mother and I will listen to no compromise unless the pearl necklace is given back.”
“Thee must go elsewhere for thy pearls,” declared Madame Yvonett undauntedly. Tom’s account of the loss of his coin flashed into her mind. “Why does thee not question thy brother about the pearls?”
“What need?” but Pauline’s fingers clenched in her muff as she put the contemptuous question. “Miss Fordyce’s testimony is most convincing—she saw Miss Langdon steal the necklace.”
“One moment,” interrupted Duncan. “My mother, Miss Calhoun-Cooper, will make good your loss, if necessary; but first,” his voice deepened—“I shall take steps to clear Miss Langdon of this preposterous charge, and bring the real thief to book.”
Madame Yvonett’s expressive look thanked him; then she faced Pauline.
“Thee came uninvited to my house; thee has shown me more discourtesy than I have ever met with before—considering the source I am hardly surprised.” Pauline shrank back as she met the beautiful, scornful eyes. “Thee has dared to besmirk my niece’s character; for that I will never forgive thee. Thee may go.”
“Oh, very well,” and tossing her head, Pauline left the room and house, banging the front door shut with a violence that shook windowpanes and pictures.
There was a moment’s silence; then Madame Yvonett turned back to Duncan. “How can I ever thank thee?” she murmured brokenly.
“By letting me see Miss Langdon,” taking her out-stretched hand.
“But Marjorie is not here—I have not seen her since yesterday.”