Free The Blue Diamond by Annie Haynes

anything has happened to her?”
    â€œHappened to her, not it!” her son said reassuringly. “Don’t you get nervous, mother. She has gone out for a walk or something. Back to her mother’s in a huff, I dare say. Jenkins’ bolts and bars won’t convince me.”
    Lady Laura looked somewhat comforted.
    â€œDon’t you think it would be better to send to her mother, Arthur?”
    â€œIt might frighten the poor old thing into a fit,” her son said lightly, though over her head his eyes met the butler’s meaningly. “I will walk down the first thing in the morning, if you like. Good night, and don’t alarm yourself, mother.”
    An hour later there was a light tap at Sir Arthur’s door. He opened it instantly.
    â€œAny news?”
    â€œNo, Sir Arthur. Her mother has not seen her since she came up, and is sure she had no intention of leaving.”
    â€œUm! The mystery thickens! What do you make of it yourself, Jenkins? Is it possible that there is a young man in the question?”
    The butler glanced away from his master’s face into the lighted room beyond.
    â€œI never heard of one, Sir Arthur. The Marstons have always been folks to keep themselves to themselves. I have been wondering”—he flicked a speck carefully from his immaculate waistcoat—“whether it would not be as well for me just to go over and speak to Mr. Davenant first thing in the morning.”
    â€œWhy Mr. Davenant?”
    â€œWell, sir, he—they have always been great friends, Sir Arthur—was talking to her in the avenue this afternoon for some time. It is possible that she gave him some hint of her intentions, sir.”
    There was a pause. Then Sir Arthur said as he turned to close the door:
    â€œI do not think that is at all likely, Jenkins. Had Mr. Davenant known anything of the kind he would have informed us.”
    The butler bowed.
    â€œNaturally he would, Sir Arthur.”
    â€œGood night.”
    â€œGood night, Sir Arthur.”

Chapter Six
    â€œS UPERINTENDENT Stokes would be glad if you could spare him a few minutes, Sir Arthur.”
    Sir Arthur tossed aside his palette impatiently.
    â€œShow him into the small library and say that I will be with him directly, James.”
    â€œYes, Sir Arthur.”
    The young man rumpled up his fair hair with a sigh of despair as he stood up and surveyed his morning’s work. His great canvas was pretty well covered—the accessories, the towers of Camelot, Arthur and Guinevere, and the knights and ladies of their court were all completed, even the costume of the “lily-maid” as she lay in her golden barge. But Elaine’s face remained a blank—Arthur’s most strenuous efforts had failed to transfer to canvas the lovely features that, once seen, had made so strong an impression upon his imagination, and anything else would, he felt sure, only fall short of his ideal.
    With an impatient shrug he told himself that he was a failure from an artistic point of view, and the next moment dwelt with a ray of hope on the possibilities of obtaining future sittings.
    Before he left the room he glanced carelessly at the sketches lying on a stool beside him; all of them had the same fair, clear-cut features, the same large deep-blue eyes, but none of them, as it seemed to him, did anything like justice to the flawless perfection of the face that for one minute had lain on his breast. He glanced irresolutely at the fireplace, half inclined to burn them all, and then, changing his mind, threw them upon a small table already littered with half-dried tubes of paint and with brushes and tins of turpentine.
    There was a step outside and Dr. Grieve’s voice hailed him through the open door.
    â€œGood morning, Sir Arthur. I am glad to tell you that the patient is doing better this morning—decidedly better.”
    Sir Arthur’s face lighted up. For the week that had elapsed since