Earl Derr Biggers

“ John himself—Sin Jin she calls him when she remembers him—little, gray spats, clubs, the soul of a rabbit; of Maude, the daughter, proud, haughty, unlovely, but stylish and Vogue-like; and especially of her—of Mrs. Sin Jin—in her breast all the love of the rabble that moved Marie Antoinette. Dame of the Revolution, she is—some Dame—some Dame. ”

“ Maude raged. “Our engagement is broken. Here,”—she removed the sparkler and held it out,—“here is your ring.”
“I don't want it,” said Clarence, just as proud and haughty as Maude.
“Very well,” replied Maude hotly, “I'm sure I don't.”
And she turned and threw that three-thousand-dollar diamond-and-platinum ring plumb into the lake.
Marian and I made a hasty get-away. As we turned, I caught sight of Mrs. Laceby peering out through some very filmy curtains. Just then Wadleigh, the butler, stepped gracefully out of our path. I believe he had been looking over our shoulders. ”

“ Laceby tell Marian Paine after dinner that it cost three thousand if it cost a cent. I mention these details with a purpose. They all have to do with good fishing.
After dinner, the old stuff—back with the rugs, get out the phonograph. The giddy soul who invented dancing did the rich host a great favor. It removes the strain of entertaining from the head to the feet. Later I sat with Miss Paine, and we heard the soft lap of the waves and the sedate splash of the servants bathing at their certified bathing beach to the left of the boat. ”

“ The boy had spirit. He was just as lofty as Maude.
“I'm sure I don't want it,” he said with feeling.
“Then it appears that in finding it I've made more or less of a social error,” I remarked.
“I'm afraid so, old chap,” responded Clarence in the zero voice.
“In that case,” said I, “there's just one thing to be done. I'll rectify my error at once.”
I stepped back. I raised my arm.
“Oh-h-h!” gasped Maude.
“Um—er—gurgle!” put in Clarence.
I paid no attention to them. I threw. There was a flash, such as platinum makes when it moves rapidly through the sunlight. ”

“ I gasped.
“That's why I say I've got two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars and seventy-five cents,” laughed Sammy. “I have. There were a lot of mysterious doings on the lake that last night we were up there—the splash of people swimming, the sound of oars, the flicker of lanterns. Davis and Laceby put on their bathing-suits immediately after dinner, and Wadleigh wasn't much in evidence as the evening wore on.”
He stood up.
“I hope none of them catch cold,” he said. “It's hardly worth it. Poor fishing. Very poor fishing—now.” ”

“ How the idea grows and grows on them—how each man begins to picture all the others dead and himself all alone with the loot—then the knife-thrust, the sharp cry, the silence—and one less villain left to claim a share in the golden horde. ”

“ Sin Jin intimated, served roughly by Wadleigh, the Quimby butler. Once, in 1882, Wadleigh's hair got rumpled. He's bald now, and doesn't have to worry for fear the thing will repeat on him.
There was, as I say, conversation. People talked continuously, and oftener than you'd think somebody said something. That girl Marian Paine—but there were other guests: a little chap from Philadelphia, Melville Laceby, and his wife. Money—they looked like the annual report of the directors of the First National. And a man about town—there are a whole lot of things about town I don't like—named Davis. ”

“ Roughing it,—if you know what I mean,—wearing disreputable clothes, behaving most informally, getting back to nature with a rush. We should be delighted to have you run up, any time, for as long as you care to stay. Just let us know your train, and we'll see that you're met at the Junction. Do come.
The note was signed “Helene Quimby.”
“There's a postscript,” said Sammy.
I read aloud: “P. S. Good fishing.”
“She said something there,” laughed Sammy. “Good fishing! Yes, Mrs. Sin Jin Quimby dipped her pen in the bottle of Truth when she wrote those last two words.” ”

“ THIS story has to do with an engagement ring that cost three thousand dollars if it cost a cent. You are not compelled to believe the tale. Frankly, we didn't. JUST the same, Mr. Biggers, a very truthful person, declares that he has set the story to paper in just the words Mr. ”