The Drop of the Dice

MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE

IT WAS A STRANGE and uneasy year which followed. My life seemed to be dominated by Sabrina. She was difficult sometimes; determined, it seemed, not to forget her wounds; they had gone very deep. I knew this because she often had nightmares and would cry out in her sleep. I had her in a room next to the one I shared with Lance and I became as mothers are with their babies, and heard her slightest cry.

Then I would slip out of bed and go to her. It was usually some nightmare. She would be skating on a pond; or she would be getting into a grave because she had given her life to one of the people who had risen from the dead. Every disturbance was due to that experience.

I would hold her tightly to me and whisper words of comfort and when she clung to me I knew how she relied on me and how necessary it was for me to lead her away from, that which had affected her so deeply, and it seemed to me during those nocturnal sessions that I could do it, and only I.

Nanny Curlew had come with us. She was good with Sabrina—kind and firm, and she was pleased to come because she looked on Sabrina as her special charge and she could join her cousin, Nanny Goswell. Jean-Louis was Nanny Goswell’s special delight and he was growing into a charming little boy. He was cheerful and good-tempered, bright and intelligent. ‘My little man,’ Nanny Goswell called him.

The two nannies would sit together, one knitting, one tatting endlessly, and discuss Miss Sabrina and ‘my little man’; I thought it was good to have children in the nursery.

I did not need Jeanne to point out to me that there was a certain camaraderie between Lance and Aimée. They both had that intense interest in gambling, and my aversion to it meant that I did not share in the most important factor in my husband’s life. Sometimes I wondered whether I should make an attempt to be interested in it. Then I realized how foolish that would be. I did not know the state of his affairs; he never discussed them with me and if I enquired, he courteously dodged the issue. But I could not believe that he had successfully avoided financial embarrassment, and even if he had, there must come a time when it caught up with him. I would be ready then to rescue him, but I did not intend to dissipate my fortune meanwhile.

I was, I found, thinking more and more frequently of Dickon and as the time passed I suppose I built up an idealized picture of him. I liked to contemplate what would have happened if he had not been caught and transported. Suppose we had married? I looked longingly into a life of blissful content.

But I had married Lance. I loved Lance, of course. He possessed great charm and outstanding good looks. He was the most considerate of persons. But I often felt that there was a shadowy element there. Did I really know Lance?

This was foolish dreaming. There was too much reality all around me for me to waste myself in insubstantial dreams, picturing what might have been.

My great-grandfather died peacefully in his bed that autumn and about two months later Arabella followed him. I went with Lance and Sabrina to the funeral.

‘There have been so many funerals in this family lately,’ said Priscilla sadly.

She was quiet and restrained, not easy to talk to. Leigh said he was making arrangements to take her away for a while. They would do a kind of Grand Tour of Europe which would help to put a bridge between the past and the present. When they returned they might live at Eversleigh Court as Arabella had suggested before she died; Enderby would be sold.

‘That will complete the change,’ said Leigh.

Sabrina and I went to see Smith in his cottage. He was managing very well, looking after himself, and Damon was there to keep him company.

‘Poor old fellow,’ said Smith. ‘He’s getting old, like I am.’

He had acquired another dog—little more than a puppy. ‘He’ll be a stand-by when poor old Damon’s gone,’ he went on. ‘Couldn’t bear to be without a dog.’

Sabrina enjoyed playing with the puppy. She seemed more like a child than she had for a long time.

‘You’re doing a fine job with the nipper,’ said Smith. ‘It wasn’t right of the master to treat her as he did. I told him so. He’d take it from me. But it made no difference. He was that wounded… like a dog maimed in a trap. He just had to shut himself in. Oh, I knew him well. But you’re the one to look after Miss Sabrina. You’ll do it. There’s good in her… if you can find it.’

I felt comforted, talking to that wise old man.

But during the months that followed I sometimes despaired of Sabrina. There were times when she seemed determined to make trouble. I think we were all patient with her. Nanny Curlew was used to her but Nanny Goswell was critical, comparing her with her ‘good little man’ who, young as he was, commented Nanny Goswell, had more respect for other people’s feelings than Madame Sabrina had. Nanny Curlew explained to her cousin that Sabrina had suffered through an unfortunate incident and that she must be given special care.

As for Aimée, she came to the nursery somewhat infrequently and seemed perfectly happy that her son should remain in Nanny Goswell’s care. She ignored Sabrina until the incident of the cards.

Sabrina had a scrapbook in which she delighted. I was pleased to see her so interested in something and she and I would discuss together where the pictures she collected should be stuck in. We would spend happy times matching one colour with another and fitting them in. She collected all the prints we could find, together with old songs and ballads and cuttings from the papers. Many happy hours were spent with the glue pot beside the open book; and sometimes I would say: ‘Let’s look at the scrapbook,’ and she always eagerly agreed.

We were having a dinner party, one of those which did not make me very happy, for there would be play, of course, and I knew that the stakes would be high. I sometimes wondered whether Lance would gamble with the house itself

On these occasions Lance was always a little abstracted. He was perfectly charming, but it was quite clear that his thoughts were not with me.

I said to him as we dressed: ‘I am a little worried about Aimée.’

Was it my fancy, or did he seem suddenly alert?

‘Whatever for?’ he asked quickly. ‘She seems happy enough.’

‘Does she gamble for high stakes?’

He laughed. ‘Oh, it’s gambling again, is it? Well, I’d say… moderate.’

‘Does she win?’

‘She’s naturally lucky. Some people are. But not always, of course.’

‘Did she pay you back what she borrowed from you… to start her off?’

‘Oh yes. She soon did that. I’d say that she had far more than usual luck. At one time she was very fortunate indeed.’

Yes, I thought, and had a quick vision of her slipping a card from her petticoat pocket to those she was holding.

He laughed. ‘She has some notion of making enough to set up a house for herself and Jean-Louis. I have told her her home is here as long as she wants, it. I could say no less for your half-sister.’

‘Thank you, Lance. You are very good to me… and Aimée.’

He came over and kissed me. I saw his reflection in the glass, elegant, graceful, like someone playing a part on a stage. He could be trusted always to do what was correct in the etiquette of good manners.

‘My dear, it is you who are good to me.’

‘I believe you would do a lot to make me happy, Lance.’

‘I’d be glad of the opportunity.’

‘Except one thing. You would never give up gambling for me.’

‘Leopards can’t change their spots, my darling, and gamblers can’t give up the game.’

‘I thought not,’ I said.

‘I know you have never liked it,’ he went on, ‘but I couldn’t give it up if I tried. It’s a spell that was laid on me at birth. When I was eight I would bet with stable boys on a couple of beetles trundling along the ground. It’s innate, it’s irredeemable. I’d do it for you if I could, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be myself.’

‘I understand, Lance.’

‘And you’ll forgive me for it?’ He took my chin in his hands and smiled at me.

‘If you’ll forgive me for being a bore and constantly nagging you about it.’

‘I know it is only your concern for my welfare and, bless you, my darling, I’m grateful for that.’

He looked so handsome and rueful that I felt ashamed of my vague dissatisfaction and my suspicions, my vague regrets for Dickon.

Dinner was lively as usual and immediately afterwards they went to the card room to play. I went in with them, as was my custom, in order to see them settled before I slipped away to bed. The cards were on the tables and the guests were seating themselves before them. I watched Aimée. I had never been able to see her at a card table without wondering. There was now an avid, excited look in her eyes which I had noticed so often in Lance’s.

There was a sudden cry of amazement. I swung round. Lance was holding a pack of cards in his hands and trying to separate them. Someone called out from one of the other tables: ‘They’re stuck together!’

There was consternation. The cards were kept in a drawer in this room. The whole household knew this.

Even as I stood there I understood.

‘What the devil…’ Lance was saying, as near anger as he could possibly show himself to be. ‘What mischief is this?’

‘Are they all the same?’ I asked.

‘It appears so.’

‘Yes, they are,’ said one of the guests.

‘These are the same,’ pointed out another.

Lance cried out to one of the servants in a voice I had never heard before: ‘Bring more cards.’

Fortunately there were plenty of cards in the house and these were immediately brought out and the game began.

As I came out of the room I saw a flash of white on the staircase. I went up to Sabrina’s room. She was lying on her bed with the bedclothes about her face. I went over to her and pulled them back. Her eyes were shut fast in pretended sleep.

‘It’s no use, Sabrina,’ I said, ‘I know you’re awake. I saw you on the stairs.’

She opened her eyes and looked at me. She was trying to suppress her laughter.

‘It wasn’t really very funny,’ I said.

‘It was,’ she retorted defiantly.

‘They were very angry.’

‘Was he?’

‘Very.’

She looked satisfied.

‘Sabrina… why?’

She was silent, smiling.

‘You mustn’t do things to hurt people,’ I said.

‘I didn’t. I did it because you don’t want them to play cards. They couldn’t if they were all stuck together. What’ll he do?’

‘He may speak to you.’

That made her laugh again. ‘I don’t care for him.’

‘You should.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re living in his house and he’s fond of you.’

‘He’s not fond of me. He’s not fond of anyone. He’s fond of cards.’

I sat by her bed thoughtfully. I wondered if I was ever going to change Sabrina. Suddenly she was out of bed and clambering on to my lap.

‘Clarissa. You’re not cross with me? Say you’re not. I did it for you. You don’t like those cards… so I did it for you.’

‘Oh, Sabrina, I wish you hadn’t.’

‘He’s angry,’ she said, her face against my hair. ‘Perhaps he’ll send me away. Come with me, Clarissa. Let’s go away. Far away. Let’s run away.’

‘Of course he won’t want you to go. He’ll forgive you.’

‘I don’t want him to.’

‘No, Sabrina, please…’

‘Tell me a story.’

I hesitated. Then I began a story which had a strong moral in it.

I sat with her until she slept. Then I crept away. It was late when Lance came up. I couldn’t tell from his expression whether it had been successful play, for although he might be elated by a big win, he was never depressed by losses.

Imperturbability when things were not good was for him the essence of good manners and that was a code he followed unswervingly.

He did not mention the incident of the cards, so I did. He burst out laughing.

‘I suppose it was that minx Sabrina up to her tricks,’ he said; and that was all.

I loved him dearly then. He was incapable of rancour, and the anger he had felt at the time of discovery had completely passed. He had dismissed the matter from his mind.

It was after she had had breakfast next morning that Sabrina came down for her riding lesson looking adorable in a brown riding habit and a cocked hat to match. She looked triumphant and aggressive and clearly expected to be punished for her behaviour of the previous night.

Lance was in the hall when she appeared. I saw her face change. She was a little apprehensive—I knew by her air of bravado.

Lance said: ‘Hello, Sabrina. Just off on your charger, eh?’

‘Yes, I am,’ she said quickly.

‘Don’t drive him too hard.’

That was all. She was bewildered. He had said nothing about the cards incident. I guessed he had forgotten it. Sabrina was too surprised to hide her disappointment. I thought then that the best way to treat her outbreaks was to make them seem trivial.

She was still thoughtful when she came back from her ride. I followed her up to the nursery. Aimée was there, paying a rare visit to Jean-Louis. Nanny Goswell was expounding on her little man’s virtues; Nanny Curlew was mending a dress which Sabrina had torn; and Jeanne was there putting away some newly laundered clothes.

Aimée looked distastefully at Sabrina and said: ‘Oh, there she is. I was talking of you. You’re a wicked girl. You ought to be whipped.’

Sabrina’s eyes sparkled. She hated Aimée and I think that after the quiet reception of her action by Lance she was ready to delight in conflict.

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she said.

‘Wouldn’t I? I’d have you beaten till you cried for mercy. I’d send you to bed and make you stay there. You’re a bad, wicked girl trying to make trouble. Sticking the cards together like that. Why did you do that? To upset everyone? Everyone thought you were the naughtiest girl they had ever come across.’

I wanted to intervene, but I didn’t, for I felt Sabrina needed to know what effect her actions had on people.

‘I would have come straight up to you and given you what you deserve,’ went on Aimée. ‘You’re an ungrateful little beast. You have been given a home here…’

I did stop that. I didn’t want Sabrina developing new resentments. I said: ‘Sabrina is very sorry. She won’t do such a thing again.’

‘I might,’ said Sabrina, looking hard at Aimée.

I took off her cocked hat and ruffled her hair. ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘Get changed, dear. We should be at our lessons.’

I was teaching Sabrina myself at first. We had decided that she should have a governess later on.

Nanny Curlew had taken Sabrina’s arm and was drawing her through to the bedroom.

‘You’ll have trouble with that child, Clarissa,’ said Aimée to me.

‘I’ll manage,’ I replied.

‘She ought to be grateful. She’s been given a home.’

‘I don’t want her to think on those lines,’ I said quickly. ‘I want her to regard this as her rightful home… where she belongs.’

‘You spoil her. What she did last night was really venomous.’

‘It was done in the spirit of mischief.’

Nanny Goswell said: ‘Nanny Curlew has punished her. She is to have no strawberry preserve today.’

‘No strawberry preserve!’ muttered Aimée. ‘What a punishment. It’s encouraging her to do it all over again.’

I did not want to argue with Aimée so I went out. Jeanne came with me.

‘And who is she to talk about Sabrina being given a home, eh? Tell me that. What of Madame Aimée, eh? A nice figure she’d cut if this house wasn’t offering open welcome to her.’

I was silent and did not reprove her. She was only saying what I thought myself.

Later in the day I went walking in the woods with Sabrina. I was wondering how to explain to her that she would be far happier if she did not fight against people. I did not refer to the cards incident. I felt we had had enough of that, but I wanted to explain to her that she must try to help people rather than upset them.

She was so happy running about gathering bluebells. They were a lovely misty blue under the trees. Summer was on the way.

‘We’ll have picnics in the woods when the warm weather comes,’ I said. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Sabrina?’

‘Yes, I would,’ she said.

Then we started playing a game naming the things we should put in a picnic hamper and then testing each other’s memories by remembering them in the right order. Sabrina loved such games and she put so much enthusiasm into them that she was invariably the winner. She was laughing as she corrected me for leaving out something and in that moment she was a normal, happy child.

We came to the dene hole. This was one of the artificially excavated prehistoric pits which are found in Kent and Essex. It must have been about three-quarters of a mile or so from the house. Sabrina had always been fascinated by it and I had made her swear not to go too near it. Remembering her exploit on the ice, she did promise and I did not think she would break her word to me. But her footsteps always seemed to lead her to it and she would stand a little way back, regarding it with awe.

‘Why did they make it?’ she asked.

‘We don’t know. It goes back too far in time. It might have been somewhere to hide from enemies. They were always fighting in those days. Or it may have been to store their food.’

‘But how did they get down there?’

‘They must have had some means.’

‘Like Jacob’s ladder.’

‘It may have been.’

‘How deep is it?’

‘Very deep, they say. I don’t think anyone has ever been down there.’

Then Sabrina did what she always did; she picked up a stone and threw it down the hole. She stood listening, entranced. The fact that there was no sound as it reached the bottom gave credence to the story that the pit was bottomless.

‘It goes right down and down to the centre of the earth,’ said Sabrina.

‘So be careful and promise me not to go too near.’

She nodded and skipped away.

The weeks passed peacefully and I believed that the incident of the cards had had a good effect on Sabrina. The only one who had been angry was Aimée and Sabrina did not care enough about her to want to upset her.

She spent a great deal of time with me and seemed to have lost some of her resentment towards Lance. I thought she was growing to like him. She thought Jean-Louis was a silly baby and Nanny Goswell sillier still to dote on him as she did. She was fond of Nanny Curlew, who was quite immune to her wiles, and Sabrina respected her for that.

That she was growing even closer to me there was no doubt. She learned her lessons with me and was bright and eager to learn. She did not want a governess and was anxious to show me that I could teach her far better than anyone else could. All she wanted was for me to be with her as much as possible; then she was happy.

There were only infrequent lapses now—little flashes of mischief such as shutting Jean-Louis in the pantry, whither she had lured him with promises of procuring some pigeon pie for him. When we were all frantically searching for him she revealed what she had done and we found Jean-Louis fast asleep on the floor, after having partaken too freely of pigeon pie.

‘He likes food so much,’ she said demurely, ‘that I thought it would be kind to shut him in with lots of it.’

‘He might have gorged himself sick,’ said Nanny Goswell indignantly.

‘Then that would have been a good lesson for him,’ said Sabrina severely.

‘It’s someone else that wants to learn a lesson,’ retorted Nanny Goswell.

Nanny Curlew said some punishment must be inflicted and Sabrina was sent to bed. I went up at that time when she should be going to sleep to find her reading a book.

‘I like being sent to bed,’ she said complacently.

I tried to explain how worried we had all been about Jean-Louis and she flung her arms about my neck and said she hadn’t meant to worry me—only old Aunt Aimée. ‘She ought to worry,’ she said. ‘She takes Lance away from you with those silly old cards.’

There was no doubt of her love for me; as for myself, she supplied that need in my nature for the child my marriage so far had failed to produce.

There was another occasion—a card party once more. We had dined and just as our guests were about to go into the card room, there was a sound on the stairs and there stood Sabrina. She had dressed herself in one of my more elaborate gowns which hung loose about her and trailed on the floor. That was not all; she had touched her cheeks with carmine, her face was thickly powdered and she had placed a patch on her chin. She was wearing my emerald necklace, brooch and bezoar ring.

‘Sabrina!’ I cried.

‘I thought I would like to join the card party,’ she said.

Lance roared with laughter. ‘Come along then, Sabrina,’ he said. ‘What will you play? We thought of faro for this evening.’

‘As you wish,’ said Sabrina languidly.

‘Where did you get those things you are wearing?’ I asked.

‘You know. They are yours.’

Nanny Curlew appeared on the stairs. ‘Oh, Miss Mischief,’ she muttered.

‘Take Sabrina up,’ I said. ‘She thought she would join us, but it is a little late for her.’

‘I’m not tired,’ said Sabrina eagerly.

Nanny Curlew had her firmly by the hand and was dragging her away.

‘What a charming creature,’ drawled one of the ladies.

‘She is Clarissa’s cousin,’ explained Lance. ‘She provides us with amusement. Now for the game. Shall we truly turn to faro tonight?’

When they were settled I went up to the nursery. Sabrina robbed of her finery and in her own nightdress looked subdued. I think that she thought for once that her little effort had failed.

I washed the cosmetics from her smooth young skin and I couldn’t help laughing when I thought of the figure she had cut.

She laughed with me.

‘You liked it, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘Did I look very funny?’

‘It was wrong of you to come down like that… but yes, you did look funny.’

‘Lance liked it,’ she said.

I could see that he was making headway in her affections and as he did so without making the slightest effort it said a lot for his charm.

Once again I disturbed a scene in the nursery and once again Aimée was there. The nannies were talking about last night’s incident.

‘There she was, the minx,’ Nanny Curlew was saying, ‘all fine feathers—patched and powdered. I never saw the like.’

Sabrina stood by, listening appreciatively.

‘And not only that,’ put in Jeanne. ‘She was in Milady’s best emeralds and that ring of hers. All sparkling and glittering…’

‘She must have looked a funny sight,’ said Nanny Goswell.

‘She looked ridiculous,’ said Aimée. This should be put a stop to. If I had my way…’

Sabrina surreptitiously put out her tongue and looked in Aimée’s direction.

‘All those jewels,’ mused Jeanne. ‘Worth a mint of money, they say. Why, you could buy a flower-shop in the heart of Paris for what they’re worth.’

Aimée said: ‘Ah, hello, Clarissa. We were talking about last night.’

‘Sabrina felt like dressing up,’ I said.

‘Where did she find that jewellery? You must be rather careless with it.’

‘Not usually. I was going to wear it last night but changed my mind at the last minute. It was in my jewel-box.’

‘On the dressing-table,’ piped up Sabrina. ‘I knew where to get it.’

Aimée lifted her shoulders in a gesture of helpless resignation. I said nothing.

I did not want to discuss Sabrina with Aimée so I turned to go and as she followed me out she said in a sibilant whisper: ‘Something will have to be done about that child. She’ll grow up into a… monster.’

I looked back, hoping Sabrina had not heard. She did not appear to have, she was listening to Jeanne, whose hands had gone to the Jean-Baptiste she wore under her blouse. She was murmuring: ‘All those fine jewels. Mon Dieu, she might have lost some of them. And there’s enough there to buy a flower-shop in the heart of Paris.’

A few months had passed and the summer was nearly over. It was September and the leaves were turning to bronze, but most of them were still on the trees and it was a pleasure to walk through the woods. When I came in I was thinking that very soon we should be leaving the country for London, for when the season started that was where Lance wanted to be. He would find some excuse for returning there and as the management of the country estates was in good hands he could do this with ease.

There were card parties in the country but there were even more opportunities for gambling for large stakes in London. He liked to go to the clubs and play, and it was in London that he had his circle of reckless friends.

I was determined to make the most of the days while they were still warm and I could ride or walk through those lovely leafy lanes and watch the coming of autumn, with its mists and fruits and silvery cobwebs which suddenly seemed to be draped everywhere.

I remember distinctly coming in from my ride with Sabrina. She was quite a good little horsewoman now. Gone was the leading rein and she had discarded her pony for a small mare which Lance had given her. She loved the mare dearly and was growing more and more fond of Lance. She liked his indifference to her waywardness and I think she was a little fascinated by his handsome looks and elegant way of dressing.

‘He’s my cousin,’ she said once, with a certain satisfaction. ‘Of course not a real one—only because you’re married to him.’

Sabrina found it difficult to be indifferent to anyone. It seemed that for her there could only be fierce loves and fiercer hates. I was very glad that Lance was beginning to be included in the former.

So we came in that day little suspecting that anything unusual had happened. There was a dinner party that night and I went to my room to prepare myself. Jeanne was usually there laying out my things, but on this day she was absent, and nothing had been prepared.

I rang the bell and one of the servants came to answer my call.

‘Will you please find Jeanne and tell her that I am waiting,’ I said.

She went off in search of her.

That in itself was strange, for at such times Jeanne always assumed an air of importance and bustled about my room long before it was time for me to dress.

Jeanne did not come. In due course the servant appeared, rather breathless and concerned.

‘Please, Milady, I can’t find Jeanne. She don’t seem to be in the house.’

This was growing very strange. Had she gone out somewhere and forgotten the time? That must be the explanation. She never went very far. Sometimes she would take a walk in the woods in order to gather herbs, for she liked to make a few medicinal and cosmetic concoctions and was fond of remarking that everything of worth came out of the earth. It was an old saying which had caught her fancy.

At any moment I expected her to come bursting in breathlessly.

But no such thing happened. The minutes ticked away and still Jeanne did not return.

I had decided to wear a dress of cream-coloured brocade, thinking that my emeralds would go well with it. I went to the cupboard and brought out the dress. Then I went to my jewel-case. To my consternation it was empty. The emerald necklace and brooch had gone, together with the bezoar ring.

This was very strange. I could not understand it, and now I was beginning to feel alarmed.

I went to Jeanne’s room. There was an emptiness there. The bed was neatly made but there was no sign of Jeanne. I went to the cupboard. It was empty. Her best black gown which she liked to put on in the evenings was gone. There was nothing at all there. I opened the drawers in the chest near the window. Every one of them was empty.

Jeanne had gone!

It was impossible. There must be some explanation. As if she would have gone away like that! As if she would disappear without telling me! But where was she?

I began to look frantically around for a note. There was none.

I went back to my room and pulled the bell-rope. The little maid appeared again.

I said firmly; ‘Find Jeanne. Let everyone look for her. Her bedroom is empty. Her clothes have gone.’

The maid stared at me open-mouthed.

‘We must find her,’ I said.

But we could not find Jeanne. She was not in the house, no one had seen her go out, yet everything she possessed had gone.

I had to dress. The party must go on, however disturbed I was.

I put away the brocade dress. I did not want to look into that empty jewel-case. There must be some explanation about the disappearance of my jewels. There was one solution, but I refused to believe it although the logical sequence was beginning to force itself into my mind.

I put on a gown of scarlet, rather flamboyant, but as Lance had assured me, in excellent taste… a dress which required no embellishment.

I was desperately uneasy. I was worried. I was frantic. I was fond of Jeanne—more fond than I had realized. I would not believe what, on the face of it, was the only logical answer.

Aimée came in while I was dressing. She was quivering with excitement; her eyes looked luminous and unnaturally large. There was a high colour in her cheeks.

‘Where is Jeanne?’ she asked. ‘I wanted to tell her… Isn’t she here?’

‘I can’t find her. I think she must have been called away.’

‘Called away! Who would call her away, and would she go without telling you?’

‘I can’t understand it, Aimée. I am very worried.’

‘Disappeared,’ murmured Aimée. ‘It can’t be. She was comfortable here. Why should she go away?’

I shook my head, and a sharp look came into Aimée’s eyes. ‘Is… is anything missing?’ she asked.

I was silent. I did not want to tell her about the jewellery. I should have to do so in time… but not yet. I kept telling myself that Jeanne would be back. There must be a simple explanation of her disappearance.

‘Because if there is…’ went on Aimée.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? She was always talking about a flower-shop in Paris. That was her great aim in life.’

‘You can’t think that Jeanne… Oh, it’s quite impossible. She has been with me so long! She looked after me in Paris

‘She always longed to be back there. That I know. That flower-shop in Paris was what she dreamed of. One of her own. It’s what she always wanted.’

‘As if she would go without telling me! I don’t believe she would ever have gone. She was so happy to have her home with us.’

‘She was by no means sentimental. Hard as nails, I’d say. That’s how they are brought up in the streets of Paris.

‘She was not hard. She was so good to me when I needed help.’

Aimée nodded. ‘Well, who knows? Perhaps she’ll come back. Has she taken some of her clothes with her?’

‘All,’ I said.

‘Oh dear. Then it really seems…’

Lance came in while we were talking.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked. ‘Everyone seems to be whispering together.’

I said: ‘Jeanne has disappeared.’

‘Disappeared? How? When?’

‘That’s what I’d like to know. She’s gone—that’s all.’

‘Jeanne! I can’t believe it.’

I nodded. ‘It seems to be true.’

‘I really think we ought to see if anything is missing,’ said Aimée.

‘I don’t believe Jeanne would ever take anything that did not belong to her,’ I began.

‘You wouldn’t believe she’d go off without saying a word,’ retorted Aimée. ‘I think you ought to look round and see what valuables are missing. Jewels, most likely, as they would be easy to carry.’

I felt myself trembling as Aimée went to my jewel-case on the dressing-table and opened it. She looked at me with wide-open eyes. ‘Did you have anything in it? It’s empty now.’

I said reluctantly: ‘I think my emeralds were in it… and the bezoar ring.’

‘No!’ She almost let the case fall from her hands as she stared from me to Lance.

‘You’ve put them somewhere else…’ she said breathlessly.

I shook my head.

‘Oh yes, you must have,’ cried Lance. ‘They’re somewhere in this room.’ He refused to accept the implication, as I did. He was silent for a few seconds then he burst out: ‘Gad, you don’t think that she

‘It appears so,’ said Aimée. ‘She seems to have walked out with your emeralds, Clarissa. Who would have believed it, and yet she was always talking about a flower-shop in Paris. What was it she used to say: “They’d buy a flower-shop in the heart of Paris.”’

‘That’s absurd,’ I said emphatically. ‘It really is quite ridiculous.’

‘I expect they’ll turn up,’ said Lance. ‘All of them… Jeanne and the jewels.’

‘They won’t,’ contradicted Aimée firmly. ‘I know her type. She’s typical of the back streets of Paris. Hard as nails and sharp as broken glass, that’s what they are… looking for chances and never missing them when they come. It would not surprise me if she were already on the boat, crossing to France. She’ll get her ambition… a flower-shop in the centre of Paris. It’s what she was always talking about.’

I shook my head miserably and Lance came to me and put an arm about me.

Nothing was done about Jeanne that night. I would not allow anyone to say that she had run away; I believed she would come back and that there was some explanation.

The party went on; the gambling took place. I was too upset to do anything but retire to my room.

I was still awake when Lance came up. For once I was not interested whether he had won or lost at the tables. My thoughts were all for Jeanne. I kept seeing her in her various moods; often sharp and astringent of tongue, trying to hide that innate sentimentality in her caustic comments, and at heart good and kind. I would never forget what she had saved me from when I was young and helpless.

And now to find that she was a thief…

I just would not believe that.

I talked about her to Lance, for I could not sleep and he, understanding how I felt, did not sleep either.

He said gently that there was only one explanation and we must accept it. Jeanne had decided to leave us. It was hard for people to live out of their native environment. Perhaps all those years she had been hankering for her native France. She had longed for a flower-shop of her own. She had seen the valuable jewellery and she had calculated what it would be worth. She had often mentioned it.

The temptation was too strong for her,’ said Lance. ‘Poor Jeanne, she could not resist it.’

Lance thought he understood. He knew a great deal about irresistible temptations.

The next day he sent men to Dover and Southampton to discover if there was any sign of Jeanne trying to escape to France. It was impossible to find any information about her.

But as the weeks began to pass, even I began to believe that there could be no other explanation. Every time Jeanne had picked up my jewellery—as she had been in the habit of doing since Lance had given me the emeralds—she had seen through it the flower-shop of her dreams.

It seemed that every way I looked at it this must be the case. The temptation had been too strong for her and she had left me to own a flower-shop in the heart of Paris.

Then I had never really known her. She could not be the woman I had always believed her to be.

It was a heartbreaking discovery. What had I known of Jeanne? What did I know of anybody?