Part 40 (1/2)
Mrs. Montgomery remembered Paul as the boy who was the real owner of the diamond ring, and she eyed him with increased suspicion.
”Did my husband send you? When did you see him.”
”Just now, at Tiffany's,” answered Paul, significantly.
”What is his message?” asked Mrs. Montgomery, beginning to feel uneasy.
Paul glanced at the landlady, who, in the hope of gratifying her curiosity, maintained her stand by his side.
”The message is private,” he said.
”I suppose that means that I am in the way,” remarked the landlady, sharply. ”I don't want to pry into anybody's secrets. Thank Heaven, I haven't got any secrets of my own.”
”Walk in, young man,” said Mrs. Montgomery.
Paul entered the room, and she closed the door behind him. Meanwhile the landlady, who had gone part way downstairs, retraced her steps, softly, and put her ear to the keyhole. Her curiosity, naturally strong, had been stimulated by Paul's intimation that there was a secret.
”Now,” said Mrs. Montgomery, impatiently, ”out with it! Why does my husband send a message by you, instead of coming himself?”
”He can't come himself.”
”Why can't he?”
”I am sorry to say that I am the bearer of bad news,” said Paul, gravely. ”Your husband has been arrested for robbing me of a diamond ring.”
”Where is he?” demanded Mrs. Montgomery, not so much excited or overcome as she would have been had this been the first time her husband had fallen into the clutches of the law.
”At the street station-house. He wants you to come and see him.”
”Have you got the ring back?”
”Yes.”
Mrs. Montgomery was sorry to hear it. She hoped her husband might be able to secrete it, in which case he would pa.s.s it over to her to dispose of. Now she was rather awkwardly situated, being without money, or the means of making any.
”I will go,” she said.
Paul, who was sitting next to the door, opened it suddenly, with unexpected effort, for the landlady, whose ear was fast to the keyhole, staggered into the room involuntarily.
”So you were listening, ma'am, were you?” demanded Mrs. Montgomery, scornfully.
”Yes, I was,” said the landlady, rather red in the face.
”You were in good business.”
”It's a better business than stealing diamond rings,” retorted the landlady, recovering herself. ”I've long suspected there was something wrong about you and your husband, ma'am, and now I know it. I don't want no thieves nor jail birds in my house, and the sooner you pay your bill and leave, the better I'll like it.”
”I'll leave as soon as you like, but I can't pay your bill.”