Leisurely unfolding his napkin, Potter looked with interest about the table.
“Take pity on a stranger, Miss Langdon, and tell me the names of my fellow guests,” he said. “I came into the drawing-room too late to meet them.”
“Captain Nichols is on Janet’s right; next to him is Miss Pauline Calhoun-Cooper; the girl on Mr. Calderon Fordyce’s right is Miss Swann, of Baltimore. Isn’t she pretty?” added Marjorie. “The others are Miss Marsh, Miss Dodge, and my neighbor here, Mr. Calhoun-Cooper,” indicating Joe with a motion of her hand.
“You have skipped the man sitting opposite you,” prompted Potter. The table, a recent purchase of Mr. Fordyce’s who never tired of haunting antique shops, was wide enough to permit two seats being placed side by side at either end, and as Marjorie’s eyes traveled down the long expanse of damask and its load of silver and glass she encountered Barnard’s fixed stare. She acknowledged his low bow with a slight inclination of her head, and turned again to Potter.
“Chichester Barnard,” she said briefly. “Have you met Mr. Calhoun-Cooper, Dr. Potter,” she added as Joe, catching his name, wheeled toward her and through several courses the two men talked with her.
Janet absorbed Tom Nichols’ attention to the exclusion of others, and Pauline Calhoun-Cooper, who also had much to occupy her thoughts, gave up trying to make conversation with Mr. Calderon Fordyce and sat back in her chair and watched Marjorie. She had heard through Janet of Marjorie’s departure that morning, and Madame Yvonett’s statement that her niece had not returned home had convinced Pauline that, as she vulgarly put it, Marjorie had made a “quick get-away.” She was at a loss to understand why the Fordyces championed Marjorie’s cause. That they did so, she never doubted; Marjorie’s very presence indicated that fact. On discovering Marjorie in the drawing-room, Pauline, considering it a personal affront that a girl whom she charged with being an ordinary thief should be an honored guest under the same roof with her, had confided to Joe that she was leaving immediately and he was to accompany her. But Joe, for once obdurate to his sister’s commands and entreaties, roughly refused to budge, and inwardly furious, she had made the best of the awkward situation and remained also. With exemplary patience she bided her time.
Janet’s feverishly gay chatter gave Tom Nichols little opportunity to broach a serious topic. He was deeply puzzled and perturbed over the loss and return of the bracelet to the Calhoun-Coopers, and the theft of Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s pearl necklace had added to his bewilderment. He had spent the past twenty-four hours trying to unravel the mystery. While Janet had not said in so many words, that the bracelet was hers, her manner had clearly indicated that fact. Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper claimed the bracelet as his, and it had been returned to him. Janet’s special delivery note hinted broadly that Marjorie had received the bracelet after he left it at her house. And yet how did Marjorie know Janet was wearing a bracelet which belonged to J. Calhoun-Cooper, and why did she return it anonymously to the Representative without first mentioning her intentions to Janet? Tom shrank from the answer which reason dictated.
“Why so solemn?” challenged Janet, not getting an immediate answer to her former question. All through the dinner she had carefully refrained from glancing in Barnard’s direction. Under the stimulus of Tom’s presence, she had cast prudence to the winds.
“Solemn? Far from it; a nonsense rhyme is bothering me to death. I wonder if you can tell me where it came from,” and he quoted hurriedly:
“‘I gave her one, they gave him two