# Blue Eyes and Diamonds

By LEMUEL DE BRA

When Betty Danford gambled and lost, she
tried to dodge the consequences—but men
cannot always be fooled or cajoled, and
the best-laid plans oft go blooey.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Argosy All-Story Weekly March 9 1929.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

"This is the key to the south door," she said.

Detective Harry Milholland finished his demitasse and thoughtfully lighted a cigarette. Over the match flame he looked into the serious and troubled blue eyes of the girl who sat opposite him in the private dining room.

"Betty, you're the same old madcap! As spoiled as you are pretty, and as selfish as you are sweet! And even though you turned me down and married Chester Danford, it's terribly hard for me to refuse you anything; but I'm going to refuse you this! It's a wild scheme and I won't—"

"Oh, yes, you will, Harry!" Betty Danford interrupted, her blue eyes pleading as she wagged a reproving finger at the man. "You haven't the heart to leave me in this awful predicament when you can help me so easily. Understand, I don't want you to steal the necklace; I just want you to hire some one to do it. Surely you know lots of clever thieves who—"

"Who are behind the bars where they belong," Milholland finished, smiling grimly. "Say, Bet, why don't you go right to your husband and tell him the whole thing? Chester is good-hearted, and as square as they make 'em."

"No!" Betty compressed her lips and shook her head emphatically. "Tell Chester that I associated with those people? That I gambled and lost more than I could afford? Confess to him that I pawned the diamond necklace he gave me for a wedding present? And that I had a paste necklace made to deceive him? I can't do it, Harry! Why, it took me a week to muster up the nerve to tell you! And now you must help me! My scheme—"

"How much have you lost?" Detective Milholland demanded abruptly.

"I won't tell you!" Betty pouted prettily. "I'm ashamed of it. Besides, I wouldn't take your money even if you had any, and since everyone admits that you're an honest policeman, I know you must be dreadfully poor."

"I'm satisfied, Betty." Milholland smiled at the girl's naïve frankness. "Say, why couldn't you steal the necklace yourself?"

"Because I'm too much of a bungler. I've discovered that I can't even tell my husband a little fib without half choking. And the day I pawned the necklace and told Chester that I was having it cleaned and repaired was—was a regular nightmare. I'll never get over it. And I can't ever wear the paste string again. It chokes me. I'm in constant terror of my husband discovering the truth. Please don't keep me in torment any longer, Harry! Get some one you can trust and have him steal the paste string. I won't have to say a word. My darling hubby will think it was the genuine necklace that was stolen—and he'll want to get me another right away. In the meantime I'll have the pawnbroker break up the necklace, sell the stones, and what's due me will clear up everything. Please, Harry!"

"Don't coax, Betty! This thing isn't half as easy as you think."

"Don't you know a man you can trust?"

"Sure, but—"

"And that you can get to-night?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then it's settled!" Betty Danford opened her hand bag and got out a key. "This is the key to the south door. Your man can get in with this key and then leave it in my room. When he's ready to leave, he can open the window in my room that lets on the porch roof, and go out the door the way he came. Chester will think that I forgot to lock the window and that the thief got in that way. There isn't much in the room worth stealing except the necklace. That's in a secret compartment in the bottom of the upper right-hand drawer of my dressing table. Your man had better take out all the drawers and dump the contents on the bed. Make it look like a real robbery. See, Harry? Well, when he does that, he'll discover the catch that operates the secret compartment. You can trust your man not to go into the dining room, can't you? Our silverware—"

"You can't trust any thief too far," Milholland said grimly. "Where'll you be? And your husband?"

"I'll get him to take me to dinner some place. There'll be no one in the house. Better—er—what do you say?—pull the job early. Say, eight o'clock. Then if your thief is seen going to the house, or leaving, no one will think anything of it. Eh, Harry?"

"Eight o'clock will do, but—"

"But me no buts! Harry Milholland, how can you be so obstinate?" Impulsively, Betty Danford reached across the table and "spanked" Milholland's big hand.

"Darn you, Betty!" muttered the detective, drawing his hand away as if the touch of the girl's fingers brought back an old heartache. "I don't want to do this thing, but I suppose I'll have to. It isn't fair to your husband, and I wash my hands of the whole affair. If anything goes wrong—"

"It's all my grief! Certainly!"

"That wasn't what I meant, Betty."

"No matter! Cheer up, old gloom! And I must be going." The girl jumped up and stepped around the table to the door. "Remember, I'm depending on you, Harry! 'By!" Smiling, she blew him a kiss and was gone, leaving Detective Milholland staring at the curtains, a troubled look on his face.

Chester Danford arrived late that evening and, to Betty's dismay, promptly declared that he was tired, half sick, and was going to retire at once. No, he didn't want any dinner! Go out? Absolutely impossible!

Betty, who all her young life had had her own sweet way, spent a desperate half hour getting her husband to change his mind. And when it was done, she could not shake off the feeling that she had aroused his suspicions.

"Bet," he said as they were at the door ready to leave, "you seem darned anxious to get me out of the house to-night. What's the idea, hon? Surprise party, or something? And, say—why'n thunder don't you wear your necklace any more? If this is a party, go put your sparklers on. You look half naked without 'em!"

Betty glanced at her wrist watch. It was five minutes to eight!

"All right, dear," she murmured. "If it pleases you, I'll wear them." She turned toward the stairway, then stopped. "No, Chester, let's do this: have our dinner at once, then come back here. I'll put on the necklace, all for you, and we'll go to—"

"You put it on now or I won't go a step," declared Chester Danford.

Betty stared at him, trying hard to hide her panic. "Chester Danford, just for that I won't wear that old necklace to-night—or ever again! How in the world can you be so obstinate?"

"The whole world is obstinate except you, isn't it, honey?"

"Certainly!" declared Betty, and tossed her head. "But, listen, sugar." Betty went to the hall seat and sat down beside her husband.

Two minutes later the front door closed behind them. As Betty stepped into the car she caught sight of a man strolling slowly down the sidewalk.

"Don't like the looks of that fellow," muttered Danford as he eased the car into the traffic. "You sure the house is all locked—windows 'n' everything, hon?"

"I think so," Betty half choked. "But I'm so hungry I—I can't think."

"Wish we'd stayed home. Bet, I got something to tell you. Was saving it for to-night—when we'd be all alone. Now that you've hustled me out of my house and home I think I'll make you wait awhile. Eh?"

"What's it about?" demanded Betty quickly.

"W-e-l-l, just to tease you a little, I'll tell you this much. Old Abe Arnstein has been a good friend of mine for years. Thinking, of course, that my darling little wife wouldn't have any secrets from me, he let something slip the other day. Well, here we are!"

"Let—something—slip!" The words came tonelessly from Betty's lips as she leaned on her husband's arm and stepped to the curb. "What on earth—"

"Don't talk here, Bet! Wait until we get a table."

Her appetite gone, Betty sat motionless while her husband gave the order.

"I don't suppose it amounts to anything," Betty managed to say when the waiter had left, "but what possible business could you have with Abe Arnstein that would interest me, Chester?"

Instead of replying, Chester Danford reached in his inside coat pocket and took out something wrapped in tissue paper, which he unfolded and held up.

"My necklace!" blurted Betty. "How in the world?"

"I told you Uncle Abe was a good friend of mine," said Danford. "When he discovered that I didn't know anything about your pawning your necklace he was in a terrible stew. Finally I got the whole story from him—and redeemed your necklace, of course."

Betty sat speechless.

"This afternoon I slipped home to tell you about it, but you were out. So I went to your room and got the phony string Abe had made for you. This is it. Do you—"

"This is it? Then where is the other—the genuine one?"

"Why, that's the surprise I was keeping for you, hon. I put your necklace in the secret compartment where you had this thing. Then—Gosh, Bet, what makes you so white?"

Chester's words seemed to come from afar off, yet they beat on Betty's ears like cruel hammers. The glass of water she reached for seemed to swim before her eyes.

"Close here—too warm. Back in a minute."

Her feet feeling as if they were made of lead, she ran for a taxi, tumbled in and gave a frantic order. As the taxi started Betty glanced at her wrist watch. Seven minutes past eight!

So far as she could see, the house was dark when she reached home. Telling the driver to wait, Betty hurried up the walk and let herself in the front door. Punching on the lights, she ran up the stairs to her room. One look—and she flew to the phone.

"Harry!" she gasped when the connection had been made. "There's been a terrible mistake! I—"

"You better not talk over the phone!" cautioned Detective Milholland. "That man hasn't got here yet. I'm to meet him at the east end of Ellington Street bridge. You better hurry over there. I'll wait there."

Betty slammed up the receiver. As fast as her high heels could carry her, she tumbled down the stairs and out to the waiting taxi.

Two shadowy figures were standing on the sidewalk some fifteen feet from the end of the bridge when Betty slipped out of her taxi. As she hurried toward the men she caught a glimpse of the broad, slow-moving river, and the lights of the city beyond.

"So it's phony, eh?" one of the men shouted angrily. "Had me risk my life for a bunch o' bum rocks, did yuh? Well—"

The rest, Betty did not hear. Horrified, she saw the speaker spring back and raise his arm. His hand shot out. High over the bridge rail flew something that seemed alive with sparkling flame.

Fleeing steps pounding on the walk—a blur of voices—strong arms that caught her quickly—those were the last things Betty remembered.

"Never dreamed you'd faint!" exclaimed Chester Danford when she had regained her senses. "Harry and I were sure that a girl who had the nerve to buck the gaming tables like you did could stand a little rough play. Have another nip o' this Scotch!"

"No," said Betty firmly, pushing the glass away. "I—I want to think. I came to in the taxi, recognized your voice, and got suspicious. I could have walked into the house—but it was nicer to be carried." Betty looked up at Detective Milholland. "So you—er—squealed, eh?"

"I did, Betty," Milholland admitted, accepting the glass Danford offered. "I had to play square with your husband. You know, two wrongs never make one right. So Chester and I framed it up to have one of my own men slip into the house and get the phony necklace. Knowing, of course, that you would phone me, I waited for the call, then hurried to meet you. There, on the bridge, we went through the little play suggested by Chester—and threw the paste necklace into the river!"

"Uh, huh." Betty's blue eyes were thoughtful. "Then, Chester, that story you gave me about Uncle Abe spilling the beans was all a fake?"

"All except that I did redeem your necklace, hon. It was the real one that I showed you to-night at the table. Gosh, you looked so sick I felt sorry for you. If you hadn't got out so quick I'd have given in and told you the truth. Well, it's over now; here—" Danford took out the diamond necklace, but Betty waved it away.

"You keep it awhile," she said, rising. "I'm not going to wear it until—until I feel that I deserve it. As for you, Harry Milholland, I'm just going to murder you the first day I have time. Moreover, you remember that this afternoon I was so grateful to you that I blew you a kiss? Well, I want it back!"

Before the astonished detective could move to prevent her, Betty kissed him smack on the lips. Then she slipped into her husband's arms.

THE END.