She held the chain up for Anne’s approval. It was of hammered gold, studded at intervals with monstrous uncut turquoise. A flush rising in her pale face, Anne fingered it lovingly.
“How unbelievably beautiful,” she murmured, almost reproachfully. What could have come over Vittorio? He did not usually juggle his treasures promiscuously. Could he have become infatuated with Ellen? “I’m sure it must have a story. Do tell it to us, Vittorio.”
He met her uncertain smile with concealed amusement. How could he tell her how openly the woman had angled for the bauble?
“It’s rather a long story, I’m afraid,” he commenced with his usual amiability. “However, if you command——-”
But at this moment Gerald appeared with a small tray of cocktails and as they helped themselves the doorbell pealed shrilly.
A glass raised halfway to her lips, Anne paused almost imperceptibly, while the butler strode solemnly down the hall, and opening the street door, indulged in a prolonged but discreet parley.
Gerald noted Anne’s abstraction with malicious curiosity.
“Is any of the gang missing?” he said. “Shall I go and see who it is, Anne?”
But Anne had risen. With a disconcerting little smile she swept by him; as he started to follow she looked back over her shoulder and laughed softly.
“No, you can’t come with me, Gerald. You mustn’t be so curious! Perhaps I have a mystery in my life, who knows? At any rate, I promise to call for help if it’s a burglar!”