But the cause of the change in her was something far less picturesque,

something concrete and sinister. He felt sure of that....

VII

Unless--but that was ridiculous! Impossible!

He sprang to his feet, incredulous, disgusted at the mere thought.

But why not? She was very young, and older and wiser women were afflicted

with inconsistencies, little tenacious desires and vanities never quite

to be grasped by the elemental male.

He went over to a bookcase containing heavy works of reference and

pressed his index finger into the molding. It swung outward, revealing

the door of a safe. He manipulated the combination, took from a drawer of

the interior a box, opened it and stared at a magnificent Burmah ruby. It

was or had been a royal jewel, presented to Masewell Price by one of the

great princes of India whose portrait he had painted. The pearls had all

been captured long since by Price's sisters and by Morgan V. for his

wife; but this ruby his mother had given him as she lay dying. She had

bidden him leave it in his father's safe until he was out of college, and

then keep it as closely in his personal possession as possible. It would

be turned over to him with the rest of his private fortune.

"Never let any woman wear it," she had whispered. "It brings luck to men

but not to women. Nothing could have affected my luck one way or the

other--I was born to have nothing I wanted, but you, dear little boy.

Keep it for your luck and in a safe place, but near you."

He had looked back upon this scene as he grew older as the mere

expression of a whim of dissolution, but it had made so deep an

impression upon him at the time that insensibly the words sank into his

plastic mind creating a superstition that refused to yield to reason. The

ruby was Helene's birthstone and she was passionately fond of it. She had

begged and coaxed to wear this jewel, and upon one occasion had stamped

her little foot and sulked throughout the evening. He had given her a

ruby bar, had the clasp of her pearl necklace set with rabies, and last

Christmas had presented her with a small but fine "pigeon blood"

encircled with diamonds. These had enraptured her for the moment, but she

had always circled back to the historic stone, over which her indulgent

husband was so unaccountably obstinate.

Until lately. He recalled that for several months she had not mentioned

it. Could she have been indulging in a prolonged attack of interior

sulks, which affected her spirits, dimmed her radiant personality? He

abominated the idea but admitted the possibility. She would not be the

first person to be the victim of a secret but furious passion for jewels.

He recalled a novel of Hichens; not the matter but the central idea.

Authors of other races had used the same motive. Well, if his wife had an

abnormal streak in her the sooner he found out the truth the better.




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