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"Oh, Nella! Naughty, naughty Nella!" exclaimed her mother.
The child immediately went to Quarles.
"I want to sit on your knee," she said.
"If mother will give you such things to play with, Nella, why, of course, they get broken, don't they?" said Quarles.
"I thought you had brought my pearls," said the contessa.
"I have come to talk about them."
"That will not help--talk."
"It may."
"Will it bring Angelique back? I am lost without Angelique."
"She will soon be back."
I smiled at his optimism.
"We saw her to-day," Quarles went on; and he told the girl's story in detail, and in a manner which suggested that my mistake in having her arrested was almost criminal.
The contessa seemed to expect me to apologize, but when I remained silent she became practical.
"Still, I do not see my pearls, Monsieur Quarles."
"Contessa, your maid says you were looking at the earrings on the day before the robbery. She saw the case on your dressing-table."
"Yes, I remember."
"Do you remember putting the case back in your drawer?"
"Of course."
"I mean, is there any circ.u.mstance which makes you particularly remember doing so?"
"No."
"Was Nella crawling on the floor?"
"Why, yes. How did you guess that?"
"Didn't you meet the maid coming out of your room on the next afternoon?
She had gone to fetch a clean frock."
"Ah! yes, Nella got her frock dirty," said the contessa.
"Pretty frock," said the child.
"Was she playing with anything--anything off the mantelpiece?"
asked Quarles.
"No."
"Are you sure? You give her queer things to play with," and he pointed to the fragments on the floor.
"It does not matter," said the contessa, a little angry at his criticism.
"I shall pay for it."
"Pretty frock," said the child again.
"Is it, Nella? I should like to see it."
The child slipped from his knee.
"Where are you going?" asked the contessa.
"To fetch my dirty, pretty frock."
"Don't be silly, Nella."
"I should like to see it," said Quarles.
"I wish you would take less interest in the child and more in my pearls."
"Humor the child and let her show me the frock, then we will talk about the pearls."
With a bad grace the contessa went with Nella into the maid's room.
Quarles looked at me and at the fragments of the vase on the floor.
"Do you find them suggestive?"
"I am waiting to see the contessa in a real temper," I answered.
The child came running in with the frock, delighted to have got her own way.
"Aye, but it is dirty," said Quarles, and he became absorbed in the garment, nodding to the prattling child as she showed him tucks and lace.
"And now about my pearls," said the contessa.
Quarles put down the frock and stood up.
"There is the case," he said, taking it from his pocket; "we have got to put the pearls into it, Contessa, may I look into your bedroom?"
The request astonished her, and it puzzled me.
