Paste Jewels

“No.  At an unintelligence office,” said Bradley.  “She was a last resort.  We had to have some one, and she was the only girl there.  We took her for a week on trial without references, and, by Jove! she turned out a wonder.”

Thaddeus grinned, and said: “Give her time, Bradley.  By-the-way, at what hours is she on exhibition?  I’d like to see her.”

“Come up to-night and test the truth of what I say,” said Bradley.  “I won’t let anybody know you are coming, and you’ll see her just as we see her.  What do you say?”

The temptation was too strong for Thaddeus to resist, and so it was that Bessie received a telegram that afternoon from her beloved, stating that he would dine with Bradley, and return home on a late train.  The telegram concluded with the line, “I’m going to appraise the escaped crown-jewel.”

Bessie chuckled at this, and stayed up until long after the arrival of the last train, so interested was she to hear from Thaddeus all about the Bradley jewel, who, as she said, “seemed too good to be true”; but she was finally forced to retire disappointed and somewhat anxious, for Thaddeus did not return home that night.

Somewhere in the neighborhood of eight o’clock the next morning Bessie received a second telegram, which read as follows:

“Do not worry.  I am all right.  Will be home about nine, Have breakfast.”

“Now I wonder what on earth can have kept him?” Bessie said.  “Something has happened, I am sure.  Perhaps an accident on the elevated, or maybe—”

She did not finish the sentence, but rushed into the library and snatched up the morning paper, scanning its every column in the expectation, if not hope, of finding that some horrible disaster had occurred, in which her Thaddeus might have been involved.  The paper disclosed nothing of the sort.  Only a few commonplace murders, the usual assortment of defalcations, baseball prophecies, and political prognostications could Bessie discover therein.  Never, in fact, had the newspaper seemed so uninteresting—not even a bargain-counter announcement was there—and with an impatient, petulant stamp of her little foot she threw the journal from her and returned to the dining-room.  It was then half-past eight, and, hardly able to contain herself with excitement, Bessie sat down by the window, and almost, if not quite, counted every swing of the pendulum that pushed the hands of the clock on to the desired hour.  She could not eat, and not until curiosity was gratified as to what it was that had detained Thaddeus, and that, more singular still, was bringing him home instead of sending him to business at nine o’clock in the morning, could she, in fact, do anything?

Finally, the grinding sounds of carriage wheels on the gravel road without were heard, and in an instant Bessie was at the door to welcome the prodigal.  And what a Thaddeus it was that came home that morning!  His eyes showed conclusively that he had had no sleep, save the more or less unsatisfactory napping which suburban residents get on the trains.  His beautiful pearl-gray scarf, that so became him when he left home the previous morning, was not anywhere in sight.  His cheek was scratched, and every button that his vest had ever known had taken wings unto itself and flown, Bessie knew not whither.  And yet, tired out as he was, dishevelled as he was, Thaddeus was not grumpy, but inclined rather to explosive laughter as he entered the house.

“Why, Thaddeus!” cried Bessie, in alarm.  “What on earth is the matter with you?  You look as if you had been in a riot.”

“That’s a pretty good guess, my dear,” returned Thaddeus, with a laugh, “but not quite the right one.”

“But tell me, what have you been doing?  Where have you been?”

“At Bradley’s, my love.”

“You haven’t been—been quarrelling with Mr. Bradley?”

“No.  Bradley’s jewel has proved your husband’s Waterloo, as well as the Sedan of Bradley himself,” returned Thaddeus, throwing his head back and bursting out into a loud guffaw.

“I am not good at riddles, Thaddeus,” said Bessie, “and I haven’t laughed much myself since that last train came in last night and didn’t bring you.  I think you might tell me—”

“Why, my dear little girl,” said Thaddeus, walking to her side and kissing her, “I didn’t mean to keep you in suspense, and of course I’ll tell you.”

Then, as they ate their breakfast, Thaddeus explained.  “I told Bradley that you were a sceptic on the subject of his jewel,” he said, “and he offered to prove that she was eighteen carats fine by taking me home with him, an unexpected guest, by which act he would test her value to my satisfaction.  Of course, having cast doubts upon her excellence, I had to accept, and at half-past five he and I boarded an elevated train for Harlem.  At six we stood before Bradley’s front door, and as he had left his keys at the office, he rang the bell and waited.  It was a long wait, considering the presence of a jewel within doors.  It must have lasted fifteen minutes, and even that would have been but the beginning, in spite of repeated and continuous pulling of the bell-handle, had we not determined to enter through the reception-room window.”

“Did you try the basement door?” queried Bessie, with a smile, for it pleased her to hear that the jewel was not quite flawless.

“Yes,” said Thaddeus.  “We rang four times at the basement, and I should say seven times at the front door, and then we took to the window.  Bradley’s is one of those narrow English-basement houses with a small yard in front, so that the reception-room window is easy to reach by climbing over the vault leading to the basement door, which is more or less of a cellar entrance.  Fortunately the window was unlocked.  I say fortunately, because it enabled us to get into the house, though if I were sitting on a jury I think I should base an indictment—one of criminal negligence—of the Jewel on the fact that it was unlocked.  It was just the hour, you know, when policemen yawn and sneak-thieves prowl.”

“How careless!” vouchsafed Bessie.

“Very,” said Thaddeus.  “But this time it worked for the good of all concerned, although my personal appearance doesn’t give any indication that I gained anything by it.  In fact, it would have been better for me if the house had been hermetically sealed.”

“Don’t dally so much, Thaddeus,” put in Bessie.  “I’m anxious to hear what happened.”

“Well, of course Bradley was very much concerned,” continued Thaddeus.  “It was bad enough not to be able to attract the maid’s attention by ringing, but when he noticed that the house was as dark as pitch, and that despite the clanging of the bell, which could be heard all over the neighborhood, even his wife didn’t come to the door, he was worried; and he was more worried than ever when he got inside.  We lit the gas in the hall, and walked back into the dining-room, where we also lighted up, and such confusion as was there you never saw!  The table-cloth was in a heap on the floor; Bradley’s candelabra, of which he was always so proud, were bent and twisted out of shape under the table; glasses broken beyond redemption were strewn round about; and a mixture of pepper, salt, and sugar was over everything.”

“‘I believe there have been thieves here,’ said Bradley, his face turning white.  And then he went to the foot of the stairs and called up to his wife, but there no answer.

“Then he started on a dead run up the stair.  Above all was in confusion, as in the dining-room.  Vases were broken, pictures hung awry on the walls; but nowhere was Mrs. Bradley or one of the Bradley children to be seen.

“Then we began a systematic search of the house.  Everywhere everything was upside-down, and finally we came to a door on the third story back, leading into the children’s play-room, and as we turned the knob and tried to open it we heard Mrs. Bradley’s voice from within.

“‘Who’s there?’ she said, her voice all of a tremble.

“‘It is I!’ returned Bradley.  ‘Open the door.  What is the meaning of all this?’

“‘Oh, I’m so glad you have come!’ returned Mrs. Bradley, with a sob, and then we heard sounds as of the moving of heavy furniture.  Mrs. Bradley, for some as yet unexplained reason, seemed to have barricaded herself in.

“Finally the door was opened, and Mrs. Bradley buried her face on her husband’s shoulder and sobbed hysterically.

“‘What on earth is the matter?’ asked Bradley, as his children followed their mother’s lead, except that they buried their faces in his coat-tail pockets.  ‘What has happened?’

“‘Mary!’ gasped Mrs. Bradley.”

“The jewel?” asked Bessie.

“The same,” returned Thaddeus, with a smile.  “She was the jewel, alas! now deprived of her former glorious setting.

“‘What’s the matter with Mary?’ asked Bradley.

“‘She’s been behaving outrageously.  I found her this morning,’ said Mrs. Bradley, ‘rummaging through my escritoire, throwing things all over the floor; and when I remonstrated she said she was looking for a sheet of paper on which to write a letter.  I told her she should have asked me for it, and she replied impertinently that she never asked favors of anybody.  I told her to leave the room, and she declined to do it, picking up a sofa-pillow and throwing it at me.  I was so overcome I nearly fainted.’”

“I should think she would have been overcome!  Such impudence!” said Bessie.

“Humph!” said Thaddeus.  “That isn’t a marker to what followed.  Why, according to Mrs. Bradley’s story, that escaped Koh-i-noor called her all sorts of horrible names, threw an empty ink-pot at a photograph of Bradley himself, that stood on the mantel, and then, grabbing up a whisk-broom, literally swept everything else there was on the mantel off to the floor with it.  This done, she began to overturn chairs with an ardor born of temper, apparently; and, finally, Mrs. Bradley got so frightened that she ran from the room, and the jewel started in pursuit.  Straight to the nursery ran the lady of the house—for there was where the children were, playing house, no doubt, with little idea that jewels sometimes deteriorated.  Once in the nursery, Mrs. Bradley slammed the door to, locked it, and then, still fearful, rolled before it the bureau and the children’s cribs.  After that the actions of the jewel could only be surmised.  The door was pounded and the atmosphere of the hall was rent with violent harangues; then a hurried step was heard as the jewel presumably sailed below-stairs; then crashings were heard—crashings which might have indicated the smashing of windows, of picture-glass, of mirrors, chairs, and other household appurtenances, after which, Mrs. Bradley observed, all became still.”

“Mercy! what a trial!” said Bessie.

“And was she locked up in the nursery all day?”

“From twelve until we rescued her at a little after six,” said Thaddeus.  “Then Bradley and I started out to find the jewel, if possible, and I regret to say that it was possible.  We found her asleep on the kitchen table, and Bradley hadn’t any more sense than to try and wake her up.  He succeeded too well.  For the next ten minutes she was the most wide-awake woman you ever saw, and she kept us wide awake too.  The minute she opened her eyes and saw us standing before her, she sprang to her feet and made a rush at Bradley, for which he was totally unprepared, the consequence of which was that in an instant he found himself sitting in a very undignified manner, for the head of the house, on the kitchen floor, trying to collect his somewhat scattered faculties.

“When she had persuaded Bradley to take a seat, she turned to shower her attentions on me.  I jumped to one side, but she managed to grab hold of my vest, and hence its buttonless condition.  By this time Bradley was on his feet again, and, having had the temerity to face his jewel the second time, he again came off second best, losing one of the button-holes of his collar in the mêlée.  I rushed in from behind, and flirtatiously, perhaps, tried to grab hold of her hands, coming off the field minus a necktie, but plus that picturesque scratch you see on my nose.  Stopping a moment to count up my profit and loss, I let Bradley make the next assault, which resulted in a drawn battle, Bradley losing his watch and his temper, the jewel losing her breath and her balance.  So it went on for probably three or four minutes longer, though we certainly acquired several years of experience in those short minutes, until finally we managed to conquer her.  This done, we locked her up in a closet.”

“Had she been at the cooking-sherry?” asked Bessie.

“We thought so at first, and Bradley sent for a policeman,” said Thaddeus “but when he came we found the poor creature too exhausted to be moved, and in a very short while Mrs. Bradley decided that it was a case for a doctor and not for a police-justice.  So the doctor was summoned, and we waited, dinnerless, in the dining-room for his verdict, and finally it came.  Bradley’s jewel was insane!”

“Insane!” echoed Bessie.

“Mad as a hatter,” replied Thaddeus.

“Well, I declare!” said Bessie, thoughtfully.  “But, Thaddeus, do you know I am not surprised.”

“Why, my dear?” he asked.