The girl spoke. She had thrown back the fur about her neck, and she was beautiful in her way, but cold and hard like her father—and just now, evidently, unutterably bored. "I thought of course the pearls were here," she said, "or I should not have come."
"Well, it isn't going to hurt you," her father snapped. "Mrs. Jordan, you say you've sent for the necklace?"
"Yes. It will leave Honolulu tonight, if all goes well. It should be here in six days."
"No good," said Madden. "My daughter's starting tonight for Denver. I go south in the morning, and in a week I expect to join her in Colorado and we'll travel east together. No good, you see."
"I will agree to deliver the necklace anywhere you say," suggested Eden.
"Yes—I guess you will." Madden considered. He turned to Madame Jordan. "This is the identical string of pearls you were wearing at the old Palace Hotel in 1889?" he asked.
She looked it him in surprise. "The same string," she answered.
"And even more beautiful than it was then, I'll wager," Eden smiled. "You know, Mr. Madden, there is an old superstition in the jewelry trade that pearls assume the personality of their wearer and become somber or bright, according to the mood of the one they adorn. If that is true, this string has grown more lively through the years."
"Bunk," said Madden rudely. "Oh, excuse me—I don't mean that the lady isn't charming. But I have no sympathy with the silly superstitions of your trade—or of any other trade. Well, I'm a busy man. I'll take the string—at the price I named."
Eden shook his head. "It's worth at least three hundred thousand, as I told you."
"Not to me. Two hundred and twenty—twenty now to bind it and the balance within thirty days after the delivery of the string. Take it or leave it."
He rose and stared down at the jeweler. Eden was an adept at bargaining, but somehow all his cunning left him as he faced this Gibraltar of a man. He looked helplessly toward his old friend.
"It's all right, Alec," Madame Jordan said. "I accept."
"Very good," Eden sighed. "But you are getting a great bargain, Mr. Madden."
"I always get a great bargain," replied Madden. "Or I don't buy." He took out his check-book. "Twenty thousand now, as I agreed."
For the first time the secretary spoke; his voice was thin and cold and disturbingly polite. "You say the pearls will arrive in six days?"
"Six days or thereabouts," Madame Jordan answered.
"Ah, yes." An ingratiating note crept in. "They are coming by—"
"By a private messenger," said Eden sharply. He was taking a belated survey of Martin Thorn. A pale high forehead, pale green eyes that now and then popped disconcertingly, long, pale, grasping hands. Not the jolliest sort of playmate to have around, he reflected. "A private messenger," he repeated firmly.
"Of course," said Thorn. Madden had written the check and laid it on the jeweler's desk. "I was thinking, Chief—just a suggestion," Thorn went on. "If Miss Evelyn is to return and spend the balance of the winter in Pasadena, she will want to wear the necklace there. We'll still be in that neighborhood six days from now, and it seems to me—"
"Who's buying this necklace?" cut in Madden. "I'm not going to have the thing carried back and forth across the country. It's too risky in these days when every other man is a crook."
"But father," said the girl. "it's quite true that I'd like to wear it this winter—"
She stopped. P.J. Madden's crimson face had gone purple, and he was tossing his great head. It was a quaint habit he had when opposed, the newspapers said. "The necklace will be delivered to me in New York," he remarked to Eden, ignoring his daughter and Thorn. "I'll be in the south for some time—got a place in Pasadena and a ranch on the desert, four miles from Eldorado. Haven't been down there for quite a while, and unless you look in on these caretakers occasionally, they get slack. As soon as I'm back in New York I'll wire you, and you can deliver the necklace at my office. You'll have my check for the balance within thirty days."
"That's perfectly agreeable to me," Eden said. "If you'll wait just a moment I'll have a bill of sale drawn, outlining the terms. Business is business—as you of all men understand."
"Of course," nodded Madden. The jeweler went out.
Evelyn Madden rose. "I'll meet you downstairs, father. I want to look over their stock of jade." She turned to Madame Jordan. "You know, one finds better jade in San Francisco than anywhere else."
"Yes, indeed," smiled the older woman. She rose and took the girl's hands. "Such a lovely throat, my dear—I was saying just before you came—the Phillimore pearls need youth. Well, they're to have it at last. I hope you will wear them through many happy years."
"Why—why, thank you," said the girl, and went.
Madden glanced at his secretary. "Wait for me in the car," he ordered. Alone with Madame Jordan, he looked at her grimly. "You never saw me before, did you?" he inquired.
"I'm so sorry. Have I?"
"No—I suppose not. But I saw you. Oh, we're well along in years now, and it does no harm to speak of these things. I want you to know it will be a great satisfaction to me to own that necklace. A deep wound and an old one is healed this morning."
She stared at him. "I don't understand."
"No, of course you don't. But in the 'eighties you used to come from the islands with your family and stop at the Palace Hotel. And I—I was a bell-hop at that same hotel. I often saw you there—I saw you once when you were wearing that famous necklace. I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world—oh, why not—we're both—er—"
"We're both old now," she said softly.
"Yes—that's what I mean. I worshipped you, but I—I was a bell-hop—you looked through me—you never saw me. A bit of furniture, that's all I was to you. Oh, I tell you, it hurt my pride—a deep wound, as I said. I swore I'd get on—I knew it, even then. I'd marry you. We can both smile at that now. It didn't work out—even some of my schemes never worked out. But today I own your pearls—they'll hang about my daughter's neck. It's the next best thing. I've bought you out. A deep wound in my pride, but healed at last."
She looked at him, and shook her head. Once she might have resented this, but not now. "You're a strange man," she said.
"I am what I am," he answered. "I had to tell you. Otherwise the triumph would not have been complete."
Eden came in. "Here you are, Mr. Madden. If you'll sign this—thank you."
"You'll get a wire," said Madden. "In New York, remember, and nowhere else. Good day." He turned to Madame Jordan and held out his hand.
She took it, smiling. "Good-bye. I'm not looking through you now. I see you at last."
"And what do you see?"
"A terribly vain man. But a likable one."
"Thank you. I'll remember that. Good-bye."
He left them. Eden sank wearily into a chair. "Well, that's that. He rather wears one out. I wanted to stick for a higher figure, but it looked hopeless. Somehow, I knew he always wins."
"Yes," said Madame Jordan, "he always wins."
"By the way, Sally, I didn't want you to tell that secretary who was bringing the pearls. But you'd better tell me."
"Why, of course. Charlie's bringing them."
"Charlie?"
"Detective-Sergeant Chan, of the Honolulu police. Long ago, in the big house on the beach, he was our number-one boy."
"Chan. A Chinese?"
"Yes.