I muttered a few words of encouragement, for the little actress looked ready to cry. I spoke as kindly as I could, telling her that if indeed she could throw some light on Mr. Marvell’s present whereabouts it was her duty to be quite frank on the subject.
She “hem”-ed and “ha”-ed for a while, and her simpering ways were just beginning to tell on my nerves, when she suddenly started talking very fast.
“I am principal boy at the Grand,” she explained with great volubility, “and I knew Mr. Leonard Marvell well – in fact – er – he paid me a good deal of attention and–”
“Yes – and–” I queried, for the girl was obviously nervous.
There was a pause. Miss Fay began to cry.
“And it seems that my brother took this young – er – lady to supper on the night of February 3rd, after which no one has ever seen or heard of him again,” here interposed Miss Marvell, quietly.
“Is that so?” I asked.
Lulu Fay nodded, whilst heavy tears fell upon her clasped hands.
“But why did you not tell this to the police three weeks ago?” I ejaculated, with all the sternness at my command.
“I – I was frightened,” she stammered.
“Frightened? Of what?”
“I am engaged to Lord Mountnewte and–”
“And you did not wish him to know that you were accepting the attentions of Mr. Leonard Marvell – was that it? Well,” I added, with involuntary impatience, “what happened after you had supper with Mr. Marvell?”
“Oh! I hope – I hope that nothing happened,” she said through more tears. “We had supper at the Trocadero, and he saw me into my brougham. Suddenly, just as I was driving away, I saw Lord Mountnewte standing quite close to us in the crowd.”
“Did the two men know one another?” I asked.
“No,” replied Miss Fay. “At least, I didn’t think so, but when I looked back through the window of my carriage I saw them standing on the curb talking to each other for a moment, and then walk off together towards Piccadilly Circus. That is the last I have seen of either of them,” continued the little actress with a fresh flood of tears. “Lord Mountnewte hasn’t spoken to me since, and Mr. Marvell has disappeared with my money and my diamonds.”
“Your money and your diamonds?” I gasped in amazement.
“Yes; he told me he was a jeweller, and that my diamonds wanted resetting. He took them with him that evening, for he said that London jewellers were clumsy thieves and that he would love to do the work for me himself. I also gave him two hundred pounds which he said he would want for buying the gold and platinum required for the settings. And now he has disappeared – and my diamonds and my money! Oh! I have been very – very foolish – and–”
Her voice broke down completely. Of course, one often hears of the idiocy of girls giving money and jewels unquestioningly to clever adventurers who know how to trade upon their inordinate vanity. There was, therefore, nothing very out of the way in the story just told me by Miss – er – Lulu Fay, until the moment when Miss Marvell’s quiet voice, with its marked Scotch burr, broke in upon the short silence which had followed the actress’s narrative.
“As I explained to the chief detective inspector at Scotland Yard,” she said calmly, “the story which this young – er – lady tells is only partly true. She may have had supper with Mr. Leonard Marvell on the night of February 3rd, and he may have paid her certain attentions; but he never deceived her by telling her that he was a jeweller, nor did he obtain possession of her diamonds and her money through false statements. My brother was the soul of honour and loyalty. If, for some reason which Miss – er – Lulu Fay chooses to keep secret, he had her jewels and money in his possession on the fatal February 3rd, then I think his disappearance is accounted for. He has been robbed and perhaps murdered.”
Like a true Scotchwoman she did not give way to tears, but even her harsh voice trembled slightly when she thus bore witness to her brother’s honesty, and expressed the fears which assailed her as to his fate.
Imagine my plight! I could ill forgive my dear lady for leaving me in this unpleasant position – a sort of peacemaker between two women who evidently hated one another, and each of whom was trying her best to give the other “the lie direct.”
I ventured to ring for our faithful Jane and to send her with an imploring message to Lady Molly, begging her to come and disentangle the threads of this muddled skein with her clever fingers; but Jane returned with a curt note from my dear lady, telling me not to worry about such a silly case, and to bow the two women out of the flat as soon as possible and then come for a nice walk.