“Yes,” he said; “as I had begun to fear. I owe you an apology, Sir
Thomas,” he went on with manly dignity, producing the briar, “I am
entirely to blame. How the mistake arose I cannot imagine, but I
find it isn’t a revolver after all.”
Sir Thomas’ cheeks took on a richer tint of purple. He glared dumbly
at the pipe.
“In the excitement of the moment, I guess–” began Jimmy.
Sir Thomas interrupted. The recollection of his needless panic
rankled within him.
“You–you–you–”
“Count ten!”
“You–what you propose to gain by this buffoonery, I am at a loss–”
“How can you say such savage things!” protested Jimmy. “Not
buffoonery! Wit! Esprit! Flow of soul such as circulates daily in
the best society.”
Sir Thomas almost leaped toward the bell. With his finger on it, he
turned to deliver a final speech.
“I believe you’re insane,” he cried, “but I’ll have no more of it. I
have endured this foolery long enough. I’ll-”
“Just one moment,” said Jimmy. “I said just now that there were
reasons besides the revol–well, pipe–why you should not ring that
bell. One of them is that all the servants will be in their places
in the audience, so that there won’t be anyone to answer it. But
that’s not the most convincing reason. Will you listen to one more
before getting busy?”
“I see your game. Don’t imagine for a moment that you can trick me.”
“Nothing could be further–”
“You fancy you can gain time by talking, and find some way to
escape–”
“But I don’t want to escape. Don’t you realize that in about ten
minutes I am due to play an important part in a great drama on the
stage?”
“I’ll keep you here, I tell you. You’ll leave this room,” said Sir
Thomas, grandly, “over my body.”
“Steeple-chasing in the home,” murmured Jimmy. “No more dull
evenings. But listen. Do listen! I won’t keep you a minute, and, if
you want to–push that bell after I’m through, you may push it six
inches into the wall if you like.”
“Well,” said Sir Thomas, shortly.
“Would you like me to lead gently up to what I want to say,
gradually preparing you for the reception of the news, or shall
I–?”
The knight took out his watch.
“I shall give you one minute,” he said.
“Heavens, I must hustle! How many seconds have I got now?”
“If you have anything to say, say it.”
“Very well, then,” said Jimmy. “It’s only this: That necklace is a
fraud. The diamonds aren’t diamonds at all. They’re paste!”
CHAPTER XXVII
A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE
If Jimmy had entertained any doubts concerning the effectiveness of
this disclosure, they would have vanished at the sight of the
other’s face. Just as the rich hues of a sunset pale slowly into an
almost imperceptible green, so did the purple of Sir Thomas’s cheeks
become, in stages, first a dull red, then pink, and finally take on
a uniform pallor. His mouth hung open. His attitude of righteous
defiance had crumpled. Unsuspected creases appeared in his clothes.
He had the appearance of one who has been caught in the machinery.
Jimmy was a little puzzled. He had expected to check the enemy, to
bring him to reason, but not to demolish him in this way. There was
something in this which he did not understand. When Spike had handed
him the stones, and his trained eye, after a moment’s searching
examination, had made him suspicious, and when, finally, a simple
test had proved his suspicions correct, he was comfortably aware
that, though found with the necklace on his person, he had
knowledge, which, communicated to Sir Thomas, would serve him well.
He knew that Lady Julia was not the sort of lady who would bear
calmly the announcement that her treasured rope of diamonds was a
fraud. He knew enough of her to know that she would demand another
necklace, and see that she got it; and that Sir Thomas was not one
of those generous and expansive natures which think nothing of an
expenditure of twenty thousand pounds.
This was the line of thought that had kept him cheerful during what