House in Charlton Crescent by Annie Haynes Read Free Book Online

element in the house. She is not really obedient to Dorothy. And she is always racing about with one of the housemaids, as I told you, and I don’t think it improves her.”
    â€œI don’t suppose it does,” Cardyn acquiesced. “Still, I dare say a little running wild won’t hurt the child. She has such high spirits that she must find being cooped up in school very trying.”
    â€œAnd other people find it very trying when she isn’t,” Miss Balmaine said petulantly.
    â€œI dare say they do,” Bruce agreed. “I hear you come from Sydney, Miss Balmaine.”
    The girl did not look pleased at the sudden change of subject.
    â€œNot from Sydney,” she said shortly. “My home was many miles away.”
    â€œYou must have had a very interesting life out there,” Cardyn went on. “I have often meant to go out to Australia. I have even thought of settling down there, but something has always stood in the way.”
    â€œYou have never been there?” the girl questioned.
    He hesitated a moment.
    â€œWell, I have. As a matter of fact I was born there, but I was brought home when I was too young to have properly appreciated my birthplace. Still, I suppose—” he shrugged his shoulders—“it may be because it is my birthplace that it appeals to me.”
    Margaret Balmaine’s face altered indefinably.
    â€œWhere were you born?”
    â€œIn Melbourne, I believe,” Bruce lied. “But my parents moved up-country and took a sheep farm there. They did not make it pay—in fact, lost all their money. Still, Miss Balmaine—”
    He was interrupted by a sharp cry from the sitting-room.
    â€œMr. Cardyn! Mr. Cardyn! Come!”
    It was Lady Anne’s voice.
    Hardly knowing what he feared, Bruce sprang to the intervening door and flung it open. Lady Anne was standing before her escritoire as if she had pulled herself up in her agitation. Her face was towards them, and it was white; the fear in her eyes that Bruce had seen on his first visit had deepened. Her left hand with the great diamond flashing over her wedding ring was grasping the top of the escritoire, and shaking as it clasped, so that in the momentary silence that followed her cry the two who were first in the room, Bruce Cardyn and John Daventry, could hear the rattling of the various objects that always stood before Lady Anne on the writing flap.
    â€œMy pearls! John! Mr. Cardyn!” she cried, as the two men caught her arms and helped her back to her chair. “My pearls have gone!”
    â€œImpossible!” John Daventry began. “You must have put them somewhere else.”
    â€œWhen did you see them last?” Bruce Cardyn’s voice cut across the other’s, cool and incisive.
    â€œAbout a month ago.” Lady Anne’s voice was firm and as controlled as ever now. She sat up and put John Daventry’s arm from her. “I am not a fool to make a mistake about a thing of that kind. I remember exactly when I saw them and remember thinking that the clasp was loose and must be seen to.”
    â€œWhere did you keep them?” Cardyn questioned.
    For answer Lady Anne pointed to the escritoire. The door in the middle stood open and Cardyn saw that the back was a sliding panel after the fashion of those beloved of the Florentine makers. Behind it was an aperture, large, comparing it with the size of the escritoire; inside were several cases—one lay in front of Lady Anne on the flap. It was open and empty.
    â€œYou see,” said Lady Anne. “The last time I had that case out the pearls were there. Now they are gone in spite of all my precautions. And—”
    She paused. Cardyn and Daventry peered into the open cavity. The girls stood in the doorway huddled together in a frightened fashion.
    â€œOh, Aunt Anne! It can’t be true! But I don’t believe they can have been stolen—your lovely pearls! You must have