Vanishing Point

“Yes, I heard that. I don’t know anything about the necklace. Has it been stolen?”

“Yes, Mr. Lester. A few weeks ago Lady Melbury discovered that the necklace in her possession was a copy. Neither she nor anyone else had the least idea as to when the substitution had been made. I gather that she would not have made the matter public, but Lord Melbury has been less discreet, and it is now an open secret. With the result that half the county believes Lady Melbury to have sold the necklace herself.”

Craig whistled softly.

“I see. A very pretty kettle of fish! And the unfortunate Miss Holiday threatened to upset it.”

“Just so. The envelope she picked up was open. It had Miss Crewe’s name on it, and it contained a sketch of the Melbury necklace-the first sketch for a detailed plan which would be drawn to scale for a jeweller to work from. Any chance that Miss Holiday had seen it and would talk of what she had seen was too dangerous to be risked. The poor woman dropped the envelope when she pulled out her handkerchief, and Miss Cu

“And now?”

“I am afraid that Miss Crewe may return-not immediately, but at some time during the night. She will give Mr. Henry and Mr. Nicholas enough time to make sure that they are asleep, and then I think that there will be another attempt on Miss Cu

He said, “No.”

Miss Silver resumed.

“The entrance to the passage should not be left unguarded. Miss Crewe must not be allowed to reach Miss Cu

CHAPTER 38

Lydia Crewe made her way back by the winding path which threaded the two shrubberies. She had no need of a torch. Her feet had taken this way so often-by sunlight, twilight, moonlight, and in the dead of the night as now. She knew every turn, every bush that brushed her shoulder, every bough to which her head must stoop, every jutting root. She had walked it when hope was high and the illusion of youth still lingered. She had trodden it when hope was gone and her formidable will drove her along another path from which there was no turning back. She passed through the gap which separated the two gardens, and beyond it under overarching trees to the gravel sweep before the house. The door by which she would gain admittance was here, but Rosamond’s and Je

She turned the corner and came to the barred windows on the ground floor-her own, Je

Immediately under the window a border set with wallflower and tulips against the spring. The bead wouldn’t be there- Je

She came back from the garden slowly, letting the light go to and fro. Tomorrow by daylight there would be a better chance, and at least if she couldn’t find it, no one else would be likely to-there was always that. She switched off the torch and heard a long sigh come out of the dark. She said sharply, “Who’s there?” and it was a dead woman’s voice that answered her.

“You won’t find it. It’s mine-you won’t find it.”

It was so faint that she could tell herself afterwards that she hadn’t heard it. But whether she heard it or not, she knew the voice and she knew what it said. She found herself pressed up against Je

Inside the room Je

All at once she was frightened. The beam of the torch came into the room. It struck the wall beyond her and caught the glass of a picture, and then the shiny round disc at the end of it came dancing to and fro about the bed. It was really horrid, but the worst part of it was that she had begun to be frightened before the beam came in. It might have been her own trick, or it might have been Aunt Lydia hating her out there beyond the bars. But she was frightened before there was even the faintest shimmer from the torch. She had been laughing, but the laughter was gone. There was a choking sob in her throat, and tears were ru

The torch went away. Aunt Lydia ’s footsteps went away. Everything was nice and dark and quiet again. And then all of a sudden the darkness and the quietness stopped being nice and began to terrify her. She slipped out of bed and ran to the door, quickly in case there was something that might be going to pounce-a black bat with ragged wings like Aunt Lydia hating her, or Miss Holiday all white and wet come back to find her blue Venetian bead.

And the door was locked. It was the most dreadful moment in Je

It took every bit of her strength, but she did it. And then all of a sudden the key turned, and the handle, and the door began to move. She had been pressed against it, but at the very first sound she went back inch by inch on her bare feet, her hands at her throat to stop the scream which was there. The door went on moving, and suddenly, blessedly, there was Rosamond in her white nightgown with the passage light behind her. She saw Je