“If it is here, it is certain to be seen,” he said, still bent down. “Look out, all of you, as you stand; you may see it flash better in the distance.”
But no flash was anywhere visible. The wax-lights discovered nothing brighter than the subdued colors of the rich Persian carpet. Sir Simon went round to the other side of the table, and searched with the same care and the same result.
“You are not an absent man, are you?” he said, lifting the chandelier from the ground, and addressing the owner of the missing ring. “You are not capable of slipping it into your pocket unawares?”
“I never did such a thing in my life; but that is no reason why I may not have done it now. Old wine sometimes plays the deuce with one,” said Mr. Plover, and he began to rummage his pockets and turn their contents on to the table-cloth. Its whiteness threw every article into vivid relief; but there was no ring.
“This is very singular, very extraordinary indeed!” said Sir Simon in a sharp tone of annoyance. “Is any one hoaxing? Charlton, you’re not playing a trick on us, are you?”
“What should I play such a stupid trick as that for?” demanded the young man. “I’m not such an idiot; but here goes! Let us have my pockets on the table too!”
And following his friend’s example, he turned them inside out, coat, waistcoat, and trousers pockets in succession; but no ring appeared.
“It is time we all followed suit,” said Sir Simon, and he cleared a larger space by sweeping away plates and glasses. “I am given to absence of mind myself, and, as you say, I may have taken a glass more than was good for me.”
As he spoke he turned out one pocket after another, with no other result than to show the solidity and unblemished freshness of the linings; there was not a slit or the sign of one anywhere where a diamond ring, or a diamond without a ring, could have slipped through.
“Well, gentlemen, I invite you all to follow my example!” said the host, stepping back from the table, and motioning for any one that liked to advance. His voice had a ring of command in it that would have compelled obedience if that had been necessary; but it did not seem to be so. One after another the guests came up and repeated the operation, while the owner of the ring watched them with a face that grew darker with every disappointment. Mr. Langrove and M. de la Bourbonais were standing somewhat apart from the rest near the door, and were now the only two that remained. The vicar came first. He submitted his pockets to the same rigorous scrutiny, and with the same result. A strange gleam passed over Mr. Plover’s features, as he turned his sallow face in the direction of M. de la Bourbonais. Suspicion and hope had now narrowed to this last trial. Raymond did not move. “Come on, Bourbonais; I have done!” said Mr. Langrove, consigning his spectacles and his handkerchief to his last pocket.