"Yes, sah, Colonel."

A fact which the wise s.h.a.g had known all along.

"For it's always good weather, When good fellows get together!"

Over and over again the not unmusical strains welled out from one of the private rooms, opening off the grill of the Homestead. At times Larch stopped at the entrance, smiling good-naturedly, but with rather a cynical look on his clean-chiseled but cruel face. More than once his eyes sought those of Harry King, and the latter nodded and smiled.

He was spending money freely, but was keeping himself well in hand, though a waiter was at his side more often than at the side of any of the others.

"How long has this been going on, Jack?" asked the colonel, who reached the hotel soon after his talk with s.h.a.g.

"All the afternoon, I guess, and it looks as if it would be all night."

"So it does! I wish I'd never gotten into this mess, but I can't get out now. Kedge would be sure to spoil it after I've started things moving. What especially did you want to tell me?"

"Well, King is in there, in his usual state--dignified, of course, but how long he'll stay that way I can't tell. It's Larch that puzzles me."

"Yes, it isn't usual for him to make such a congenial companion of himself with his customers. But he's very different since his wife separated from him. He doesn't hold himself so highly."

"And it's telling on his business."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that a number of his best friends are leaving him. The way it used to be was that the Homestead was patronized by a good cla.s.s of people and organizations, some that even were opposed to the liquor trade. They knew they could have it or not have it as they pleased.

But now Larch is catering more and more to parties that wouldn't come here if there wasn't something strong to drink, and that's driving the other sort away."

"Yes, I've noticed that of late."

"And that isn't all," went on Young. "Larch is going to come a cropper, if I'm any judge."

"What do you mean?" Again the Colonel seemed puzzled.

"I mean he's going to smash financially. He's been making some poor investments of late, as well as gambling heavily, and his money can't last forever. He had a lot, but most of it is gone."

"I hadn't heard that."

"Well, it's true. He was well off when he married. That's the reason he got such a pretty wife, I hear. Her folks were ambitious for her.

Well, she did shine for a while, for the Homestead was not an ordinary hotel. It was more of a Colchester inst.i.tution. But it's fast becoming something else now.

"Larch is being pressed for cash, and that may be one reason why he's so thick with Harry King. King's got cash, if it can only be gotten at. I overheard Larch sounding him as to the chances of raising a big sum."

"And what did King say?"

"He agreed to try to get it for Larch. That's all I gathered then.

But I heard them talking of something else."

"What?"

"Larch dropped a hint that he and his wife might be reconciled."

"The deuce you say!"

"That's right, Colonel. I heard him telling King about it. Larch is going to pay his wife a visit--going to call on her at her father's place in Pompey. And he's going to take her out a present. I believe that's the usual thing after a quarrel."

"Possibly," admitted the colonel. "Oh, I wish I'd never mixed up in this! I'm sorry for young Darcy, and I believe-- Oh, well, what's the use of talking now! I'm in it and I must see it through. So Larch is going to visit his wife?"

"Yes. He's either sent her a present or is going to. I couldn't quite catch which."

"What sort of present, Jack?"

"A diamond cross."

"What?" and the colonel had suddenly to modulate his voice or he would have attracted more attention that he cared to. "A diamond cross? Are you sure about that, Young?"

"Sure! Why not? I don't see anything queer there. He might buy her a diamond cross as a sort of forgiveness gift. Same idea Harry King had you know, but a little higher cla.s.s, that's all.

"You know, Colonel, these things are about alike. The man on Water Street gets drunk and brings his wife home a quart of oysters as a peace offering. The man on the boulevard does the same thing and patches up the break with a pearl pendant. It's all the same, only different."

"Yes, I suppose so. I didn't know you were a philosopher, Jack."

"I'm not. It's just common sense."

"But a diamond cross! And if Larch is losing money--"

"Oh, well, he may have held out some, or maybe the diamond cross isn't so elaborate. You know they take a lot of little diamonds now, set 'em in a cl.u.s.ter and make 'em look as good as a solitaire. Anyhow Larch has been boasting to King that there's to be a diamond cross present.

And there's another angle to it."

"What's that, Jack?"

"Well, there's been some talk between Larch and King about some big diamonds that have been sold of late. I couldn't catch whether King had sold them or Larch. Anyhow they brought quite a sum of money.

Maybe they were stolen from the jewelry stock."

"Not unless Mrs. Darcy had some of which James Darcy knew nothing."

"Well, I saw Larch at one time, and Harry King at another, have one of those white tissue paper packages that jewelers keep diamonds in. I didn't get a glimpse at the stones themselves. I had to be a bit cautious you know, and, even now, I think they're suspicious of me here. If it wasn't that King drinks so much, though he manages to walk and talk straight. I believe he'd try to pump me. Anyhow, I thought I'd better let you know what I'd heard."

"Jack, I'm glad you did. So Larch has sent, or is going to send, his wife a diamond cross! Well, then, Grafton might be right about that after all. Gad! this thing is getting mixed up! Now, Jack--"

A waiter who knew the colonel, from the fact that the latter was a striking figure and had been in the Homestead more than once, approached the private room occupied by the detective and Jack Young and announced:

"Excuse me, Colonel, but you are wanted at the telephone."

"All right. Where is it?"

"You can come right in here and have the call transferred from our central," and the man opened the door of a small booth. The Homestead was honeycombed with private rooms, booths and telephones.

"Yes, this is Colonel Ashley," announced the detective into the instrument, when his ident.i.ty had been questioned. "Who are you? Oh, s.h.a.g! Yes, s.h.a.g, what is it? What's that--at the jewelry store you say? Well, will this never end? Yes, I'll go there at once!"