For when we had crept back to the kitchen, and Bella was fumbling
for her handkerchief to cry into and the Harbison man was trying to
apologize for the language he had used to the reporter, and I was on the
verge of a nervous chill--well, it was then that Bella forgot all about
crying and jumped and held out her arm.
"My diamond bracelet!" she screeched. "Look, I've lost it."
Well, we went over every inch of that basement, until I knew every crack
in the flooring, every spot on the cement. And Bella was nasty, and said
that she had never seen that part of the house in such condition, and
that if I had acted like a sane person and put her out, when she had no
business there at all, she would have had her freedom and her bracelet,
and that if we were playing a joke on her (as if we felt like joking!)
we would please give her the bracelet and let her go and die in a
corner; she felt very queer.
At half-past four o'clock we gave up.
"It's gone," I said. "I don't believe you wore it here. No one could
have taken it. There wasn't a soul in this part of the house, except the
policeman and he's locked in."
At five o'clock we put her to sleep in the den. She was in a fearful
temper, and I was glad enough to be able to shut the door on her. Tom
Harbison--that was his name--helped me to creep upstairs, and wanted
to get me a glass of ale to make me sleep. But I said it would be of no
use, as I had to get up and get the breakfast. The last thing he said
was that the policeman seemed above the average in intelligence, and
perhaps we could train him to do plain cooking and dishwashing.
I did not go to sleep at once. I lay on the chintz-covered divan in
Bella's dressing room and stared at the picture of her with the violets
underneath. I couldn't see what there was about Bella to inspire such
undying devotion, but I had to admit that she had looked handsome that
night, and that the Harbison man had certainly been impressed.
At seven o'clock Jimmy Wilson pounded at my door, and I could have
choked him joyfully. I dragged myself to the door and opened it, and
then I heard excited voices. Everybody seemed to be up but Aunt Selina,
and they were all talking at once.
Anne Brown was in the corner of the group, waving her hands, while
Dallas was trying to hook the back of her gown with one hand and hold a
blanket around himself with the other. No one was dressed except Anne,
and she had been up for an hour, looking in shoes and under the corners
of rugs and around the bed clothing for her jeweled collar. When she saw
me she began all over again.