“Now,” said he at length, when he perceived signs that the colonel was about to recommence, “kindly let me know in what way I can be of use to you.”
“Bother take the women!” ejaculated the visitor, as he recovered his breath again. “But you see, Mr. Leslie, it was all through my niece. She caught sight of that thing—funny-looking thing, too—on your chain whilst we were on the Parade this evening, and nearly fainted away—she did, sir, I do assure you, in Mrs. Raby’s arms, too, sir; and if I had not got a cup of water from the drinking fountain, and poured it over her head, there would most likely have been a bit of a scene, sir, and then—— We are staying in this house, you know.
We saw you come in just behind us; and so—of course it’s all nonsense, but the fact is”——
“Excuse me,” interrupted Leslie, who was growing impatient; “but may I ask the name of the lady—your niece, I mean?”
“My niece, sir,” replied the colonel, rather ruffled at being cut short, “is known as Miss Margaret Drury; and if you will only have the kindness to convince her as to the utter absurdity of an idea which she somehow entertains that that affair, charm, trinket, or whatever you may call it, once belonged to a brother of hers, I shall be extremely obliged to you, for really”—relapsing again—“when the women once get hold of a fad of the kind, a man’s peace is clean gone, sir, I do assure you.”
“I am not quite sure,” remarked Leslie, smiling, “that in this case at least it will not turn out to be a ‘fad.’ How I became possessed of this stone, which I have every reason to believe once belonged to her brother, and which, through long years, I have held in trust for her and her mother, is quite capable of explanation, sad though the story may be. So, sir, I shall be very pleased to wait on Miss Drury as soon as may be convenient to her.”
A tall, dark-robed figure, beyond the first bloom of maidenhood, but still passing fair to look upon, rose on Leslie’s entrance; and he recognised at a glance the long golden hair, and calm eyes of deepest blue, of poor Drury’s oft-repeated description.
Many a sob escaped his auditor as he feelingly related his sad story.
“Poor Francie,” she said at last—“poor, dear Francie! And this is the old Quandong locket I gave him as a parting gift, when he left for those terrible diamond fields! A lock of my hair was in it. But how strange it seems that through all these years you have never discovered the secret of opening it. See!” and with a push on one of the stud-heads and a twist on another, a short, stout silver pin drew out, and one half of the nut slipped off, disclosing to the astonished gaze of the pair, nestling in a thick lock of golden threads finer than the finest silk, a beautiful diamond, uncut, but still, even to the unpractised eyes of Leslie, of great value.