Wedding In Springtime(18)

Lady Devine glided down the stairs holding an empty box.

"What is wrong?" asked Grant, running up to her, with Marchford and Thornton not far behind.

"My emerald necklace, it has been stolen!"

"Stolen?" asked Grant.

"Tell me what happened," said Marchford, quickly adopting a businesslike tone.

"I slipped upstairs to freshen my face and I found this box, which usually contains my emeralds, empty on my boudoir table!"

People streamed in through the surrounding doors, including the large form of Admiral Devine.

"Dearest!" called his wife. He made his way to her side and a moment's  whisper was enough to turn the admiral's red face to pale.

More people came in from the ballroom, crowding the hall with a throng of society's best, eager for scandal.

"My dear friends, nothing to worry about," called the admiral. "A simple  case of a misplaced necklace, nothing more. Please return to dancing,  enjoy the French wine; it cost me dear and I will not be satisfied until  it is gone."

Some of the crowd ambled back into the ballroom, while the admiral, his  wife, Grant, and his friends went up to investigate the scene of the  disappearance.

Their hostess showed the men into the room-a more feminine domain of  lace, satin, and feathers one could not imagine. The men stood like  awkward oafs in the presence of so many frills and pastels, predominated  by an unhealthy dose of pink.

"I found the empty box here," said the lady, standing beside her  dressing table. The admiral moved forward to look, but Grant, Marchford,  and Thornton remained planted by the door, overcome by the sheer  pinkness of it all. "What else was taken?" Marchford stepped forward,  the first of the bachelors to venture into the feminine domain.

"Oh! I had not thought of it. Let me see." The lady opened an ornately  carved cabinet and began to pull out box after box, each containing the  expected jewel. "No, nothing else was taken, just the emeralds. It's  odd."

"Why is that?" asked Grant, overcoming the emasculating decor of the room and joining them.

"The emeralds are not my best piece. Why would the thief only steal that?"

"Yes, that is perplexing," said Marchford, examining the room.

Lady Devine wiped a tear from her eye. "Do you think the necklace will be returned soon?"

No one answered her. The emeralds were gone.         

     



 

"What will they do with them? Everyone knows the setting to be mine."

"The necklace will probably be ripped apart and the jewels sold separately," said Marchford without feeling.

"It was my mother's," whispered Lady Devine as more tears began to fall.  The admiral gave Marchford a glare. Grant just shook his head. For a  smart man, Marchford could be thoughtless when it came to women.

Grant motioned to Marchford, who readily followed him outside the lady's  domain to where Thornton was still standing. "There may be a thief  downstairs. Shall we call the police?"

"And have them search the guests? I imagine Lady Devine would not care for it," said Thornton, always practical.

"I do not care for this scene," muttered the duke. "A thief would have  had ample opportunity to come up to her boudoir and steal the lot of  jewels. It appears to me this scene was made to look like a failed  burglary, but in fact, the thief did not care for jewels or more would  be taken."

"But why?" asked Grant.

"Perhaps it was created as a diversion, so the thief could steal what he really wanted."

"What could that be?" asked Admiral Devine, joining the party.

"Not sure," said Marchford. "Have you anything else of value?"

"My wife has several pieces of jewelry, but nothing else has been taken."

"What about you, Uncle. Anything in the house of particular interest to a thief?" asked Grant.

"Well, there is the silver, some artwork, an extensive, if you do not  mind me saying, collection of wine, and some of the finest whiskey  handed down from my father." He looked up to the ceiling in a wistful  manner.

"Admiral," said Marchford, bringing him back to the matter at hand.  "Have you anything else in the house. Anything perhaps of interest to a  French spy?"

The wistful look vanished and the admiral snapped to attention. "My study!"





Twelve


"The keys to the study!" Admiral Devine called to his butler.

"You keep the study locked?" asked Grant, running after his uncle, Marchford and Thornton in pursuit.

"Yes, as a precaution. I have recently received some letters of a most sensitive nature."

The keys were produced by the butler and the admiral began to unlock the door.

"Wait!" called a demanding voice. "This is a matter for the Crown to  investigate!" Mr. Neville pushed his way forward. "My agents report  there has been a theft in this house. Admiral Devine, you received  sensitive information recently, did you not?"

"Yes, yes, letters. They are in the top drawer of my desk."

"Careful now," said Mr. Neville, taking off his large coat. "Maybe we can catch this thief."

The door was unlocked and the men carefully edged into the dark room.

"There he is!" shouted Neville, and everyone rushed into the room.

"Where is he?"

"Someone bring a light!"

A loud crash shot through the room just as the butler emerged with a  candle. The window curtains were flung back and the window was smashed  out.

"He's made a run for it out the window!" called Marchford.

"After him!" called Neville. "I'll run around the front and try to head him off."

Marchford pulled the drapes over the broken glass and jumped through the  window after the thief, Grant and Thornton right behind him.

"Which way? Did you see him?" asked Grant. They were in a dark, cramped alley between two large houses in crowded London.

"No, let's split up and find this bastard," called Marchford. "You two go toward the front, I'll check behind."

"The thief may be dangerous. You should not go alone," said Thornton.

Marchford drew a small revolver from his waistcoat. "I will not be alone."

"Remind me to talk to you about the accouterments you bring to a ball,"  said Grant, and he turned to run along the side of the house toward the  front, Thornton following him. The passage between the two houses was  dark, and the men slowed their step around blind corners and entryways,  cautious for any surprise attack. They moved silently, listening for any  sound.

At the front gate, they heard a scraping noise. Grant carefully lifted  the latch. Taking a slow breath to calm his racing heart, he steeled  himself for battle. He burst through the gate, but an alley cat merely  screeched and disappeared into the night. Grant and Thornton searched  around to the front of the house but found no sign of the thief.

Marchford joined them a few minutes later. He too had not found anyone,  so they returned to the study, where the admiral stood before his desk.  The top drawer had been wrenched open.         

     



 

"Did you catch the thief?" asked Neville, joining them a few minutes later, breathless and panting.

"No," replied Marchford. "You?"

"I thought I might have seen him once, but I could not catch him." Mr. Neville gasped for breath.

"Sit, man, sit," demanded the admiral.

"Did he get the papers?" asked Mr. Neville, collapsing into a chair.

"I am afraid he did," replied the admiral.

"Demmit, man!" yelled Mr. Neville. "This is why sensitive information  should not be kept in a private residence. This information should be  handed over to the Foreign Office for protection."

"Not that the Foreign Office provides any more protection," snapped the admiral.

Grant shut the door against unwanted eavesdroppers and gossips, of which  London society were the worst offenders. "What do you mean, Uncle?"

"Sprung a leak, my boy. The Foreign Office has been losing information faster than a leaky rowboat takes water."

"That is a slanderous untruth!" sputtered Neville.

"How else would you explain it?" asked the admiral. "Documents missing,  plans known by our enemy before they are even executed, and our  spies-many have been discovered or have disappeared."

"Is this true?" asked Marchford.

"The enemy does seem to have good information," conceded Neville. "But  all the more reason why we must be extremely cautious. What information  did those papers contain?"

"It was correspondence from spies on the coast containing plans for the naval defense of Cadiz and other places."

"Which spies? Give me the names!" demanded Neville. "They must be warned. Their very lives are in danger."

"I think we have some time," said the admiral, walking to a wall of  books. He climbed up a small ladder and pulled a tome from one of the  top shelves. Opening the book, he pulled out a large envelope with an  elaborate red seal.