FullReads

Miss Tennant stood in the door-way of her room. She was pale and greatly agitated, but her eyes shone with courage and resolve. Her arched, blue-veined feet were thrust into a pair of red Turkish slippers turning up at the toes. A mandarin robe of dragoned blue brocade was flung over her night-gown. In one hand she had a golf club–a niblick.

“Oh!” she cried, when her father was sufficiently recovered from overturning the cabinet to listen, “there was a man in my room.”

Mr. Tennant }     { furiously.
Young Mr. }     {
Tennant   }     { sleepily.
}     {
The butler } "A man?" { as if he thought she
}     { meant to say a fire.
The French }     {
maid    }     { blushing crimson.

Then, and again all together:

Mr. Tennant– “Which way did he go?”
Young Mr. Tennant– “Which man?”
The butler– “A white man?”
The French maid (with a kind of ecstasy)–
“A man!”

“Out the window!” cried Miss Tennant.

Her father and brother dashed downstairs and out into the grounds. The butler hurried to the telephone (still carrying his bucket of water) and rang Central and asked for the chief of police. Central answered, after a long interval, that the chief of police was out of order, and rang off.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Tennant arrived, and, having coldly recovered her jewel-case from the custody of the French maid, prepared to be told the details of what hadn’t happened.

“He was bending over my dressing-table, mamma,” said Miss Tennant. “I could see him plainly in the moonlight; he had a mask, and was smooth shaven, and he wore gloves.”

“I wonder why he wore gloves,” mused Mrs. Tennant.

“I suppose,” said Miss Tennant, “that he had heard of the Bertillon system, and was afraid of being tracked by his finger-marks.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Not to me, I think,” said Miss Tennant, “but he kept mumbling to himself so I could hear: ‘Slit her damn throat if she makes a move; slit it right into the backbone.’ So, of course, I didn’t make a move–I thought he was talking to a confederate whom I couldn’t see.”

“Why a confederate?” asked Mrs. Tennant. “Oh, I see–you mean a sort of partner.”

“But there was only the one,” said Miss Tennant. “And when he had filled his pockets and was gone by the window–I thought it was safe to scream, and I screamed.”

“Have you looked to see what he took?”

“No. But my jewels were all knocking about on the dressing-table. I suppose he got them.”

“Well,” said Mrs. Tennant, “let’s be thankful that he didn’t get mine.”

“And only to think,” said Miss Tennant, “that only last night papa asked me why I had given up wearing my pearls, and was put out about it, and I promised to wear them oftener!”

“Never mind, my dear,” said her mother confidentially; “if you are sorry enough long enough your father will buy you others. He can be wonderfully generous if you keep at him.”

“Oh,” said Miss Tennant, “I feel sure that they will be recovered some day–it may not be to-morrow, or next day–but somehow–some time I feel sure that they will come back. Of course papa must offer a reward.”