Most of the people not directly concerned
were disappointed; they were being robbed of their excitement, their
hopes of a tragical denouement were frustrated. Mrs. Lawrence's worn
face plainly showed her relief. The lady with the yellow hair, on the
other hand, who had now succeeded in working herself up into a towering
rage, snatched the bracelet from the young man's fingers and with a
purple flush in her cheeks was obviously struggling with an intense
desire to box his ears.

"That's not good enough for a tale!" she exclaimed harshly. "I tell you
I don't believe a word of it. Took it for a joke, indeed! I only wish my
husband were here; he'd know what to do."

"Your husband couldn't do much more than get your bracelet back, ma'am,"
Mrs. Lawrence replied with acerbity. "Such a fuss and calling every one
thieves, too! I'd be ashamed to be so suspicious."

Mrs. Fitzgerald glared haughtily at her hostess.

"It's all very well for those that don't possess any jewelry and don't
know the value of it, to talk," she declared, with her eyes fixed upon
a black jet ornament which hung from the other woman's neck. "What I say
is this, and you may just as well hear it from me now as later. I don't
believe this cock-and-bull story of Mr. Tavernake's. Them as took my
bracelet from that table meant keeping it, only they hadn't the courage.
And I'm not referring to you, Mr. Tavernake," the lady continued
vigorously, "because I don't believe you took it, for all your talk
about a joke. And whom you may be shielding it wouldn't take me two
guesses to name, and your motive must be clear to every one. The common
hussy!"

"You are exciting yourself unnecessarily, Mrs. Fitzgerald," Tavernake
remarked. "Let me assure you that it was I who took your bracelet from
that table."

Mrs. Fitzgerald regarded him scornfully.

"Do you expect me to believe a tale like that?" she demanded.

"Why not?" Tavernake replied. "It is the truth. I am sorry that you have
been so upset--"

"It is not the truth!"

More sensation! Another unexpected entrance! Once more interest in the
affair was revived. After all, the lookers-on felt that they were not to
be robbed of their tragedy. An old lady with yellow cheeks and jet black
eyes leaned forward with her hand to her ear, anxious not to miss a
syllable of what was coming. Tavernake bit his lip; it was the girl from
the roof who had entered the room.

"I have no doubt," she continued in a cool, clear t