Free The Brading Collection by Patricia Wentworth Page A

pronounced ‘Come hither’ in her eye, and she has more or less got Lewis where she wants him. Up to last night the status of Robinson was in doubt, but during our third dance she confided artlessly that she had divorced him a year ago. There is therefore no just cause or impediment to her annexing Lewis.”
    “But they weren’t taking any notice of each other last night.”
    “Lovers’ quarrel, darling. You may have seen her look at me affectionately.”
    “Why should she?”
    “Lewis was being shown that there were other good fish in the sea. Maida knows her stuff all right. Lewis was all ready to eat out of her hand by the time she let him have a dance. He’s getting to know his place. He can adore her, and she can adore the Collection. I only hope he will have enough strength of mind to restrain her from wearing the Marsden rubies. She’ll want to of course—red-haired women always hanker after crimson. And Dossie had them—someone is bound to have told her that. She wore them at the ball he gave for her when they were engaged. They are supposed to be unlucky. Some dancer was stabbed when she was wearing them—a girl called Lisa Canaletti—in Paris under the second Empire. George Marsden bought them a dozen years later. His wife wore them for twenty years before she was killed in a carriage accident, and then her daughter had them, and she was killed in an air raid. After which the necklace sat in a bank until Lewis bought it. The middle ruby is very fine, and the story appealed to him.”
    “Charles, what is that Collection worth?”
    He laughed.
    “Quite a lot! But it won’t come our way.”
    When he said our like that, she felt as if she had been touched upon the heart. And he didn’t mean anything—he didn’t mean anything at all. She heard him say,
    “Just the stones themselves have a considerable market value. And then there are other morbid blokes beside Lewis who will pay a fancy price for a thing with a story pinned to it.”
    Something knocked at the door of Stacy’s mind. She said,
    “Isn’t it dangerous having all that stuff?”
    Charles had a fleeting frown.
    “Everybody’s been saying that for years, but nothing happens. Of course the stuff wasn’t there during the war, but he got it back again as soon as he could. The whole annexe is really a strong-room, and the special things are in a safe over and above that. No windows, only one way in, and a light burning all night long in the passage from the house. It ought to be safe enough.”
    Stacy said quickly, “The light went out last night.”
    “Nonsense!”
    “Charles, it did.”
    She told him about hearing the door click.
    “I heard it, and I looked out of the window, and the passage was all dark.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Of course I’m sure. And then whilst I was looking the light came on again, and I’m practically certain the door of the annexe was just being shut. It was still moving.”
    “What time was this?”
    “I don’t know—late—very late—I’d been asleep a long time.”
    Charles broke out laughing.
    “James Moberly was coming home after a night on the tiles! He would have to come through the house, because there’s no other way to the annexe, and he left the light off to avoid a snooping eye.”
    “I haven’t got a snooping eye! I was just looking out. And—Charles—he couldn’t have come through the house, because the door is bolted after the last guest has gone. I know, because I asked this morning in case of dining out. I said could I have a key, and they said I could, only you have to warn in or the door would be bolted.”
    “Perhaps he did warn in.”
    “No, he didn’t, because I asked if anyone was out last night, and they said no, and that everyone had gone home by twelve o’clock.”
    Charles looked at her curiously.
    “Bit of a nosey parker, weren’t you, my sweet?”
    She flushed.
    “It wasn’t like that. I thought I’d just find out about having a key.”
    “In case I