Deadly Nightshade by Elizabeth Daly Page A

some fun out of it while Irma’s growing up. It’s a solemn transfer of property, you know. Very informal, but we have a good many witnesses to the transaction, and one of them is a detective.”
    â€œIt’s Mother’s old jewel box.” George Bartram bent forward, interested.
    â€œOf course it is; and it represents Julia’s estate.” Bartram spoke quietly. “It’s a way we have in the Bartram family, Gamadge; unbreakable tradition. The jewelry goes to the oldest girl. My mother willed it to Julia, as you know, George. And now, of course, you’re the oldest girl, Irma; go and take a look at your property.”
    â€œBut, Carroll, see here. It belongs to you, now.” George Bartram spoke hesitantly, while Irma scrambled down from his knees.
    â€œBy law, perhaps; but morally, no. What do you think Mother would have said about it? Trouble is,” continued his brother, watching Irma as she hung over the open box, which Mrs. Bartram had just succeeded in freeing from its complicated fastenings, “trouble is, the stuff has so little market value. I don’t believe there’s anything in that collection, except Mother’s old solitaire ring, that a modern jeweler would look at.”
    Mrs. Bartram lifted the lid of the box, gasped, and exclaimed “Carroll!” in a voice of wonder and delight. “Carroll!” she repeated, almost in a shriek. “George! Come here and look at these!”
    â€œI don’t have to look at them.” George Bartram got out of his chair, however, and leaned over his wife and daughter. “Many’s the time we’ve seen ’em—haven’t we, old boy? Mother thought they were worth a fortune, didn’t she? Remember how we used to tease her when she got that wall safe put in?”
    â€œYes; and you drew a picture of a burglar opening it with a shoehorn, and fainting when he saw what was in it.”
    Mitchell, who had also advanced to peer over George Bartram’s shoulder, remarked that things like that probably cost plenty to buy, though.
    â€œAnd they’re back in fashion!” Mrs. Bartram held up an impressive-looking necklace of turquoise and filigree. “A whole set of turquoise; coral; garnets; gold bracelets; ever so many earrings, and a rope of seed pearls. Oh, Irma!”
    Irma, greatly interested and pleased, grasped a large cameo brooch, was instantly pricked by its formidable pin, and dropped it on the floor.
    â€œThat’s what you get for snatching things. No, darling, it doesn’t hurt; see, here’s a little gold bead chain that you can wear now!”
    She fastened it on Irma’s neck, while Gamadge picked up the hideous brooch and restored it to the jewel case.
    â€œThere aren’t many as bad as that,” said Carroll Bartram. “I’m glad of it, for Irma’s sake. Don’t miss the secret compartment, Adèle.”
    The secret compartment, however, proved disappointing; it contained a couple of daguerreotypes, some bits of broken coral, a red Chinese tassel, a watch chain made of hair, and two old keys.
    â€œI could have told you,” said George Bartram. “Those are sentimental keepsakes. I hope you’ll throw that hair thing away; it gives me the creeps.”
    â€œWell, I only hope you’ll wear the things yourself, Adèle; if Irma agrees, of course.” Her brother-in-law looked at her with amusement, but he spoke affectionately. “Lord knows, you deserve more than this junk. You’ve been a brick, these last few days.”
    â€œIrma would have something to say to me if I lost any of them!” She fastened a short string of huge coral beads about her neck, and fingered it lovingly. “Carroll, I don’t know how to thank you for these! Irma will, when she’s old enough. Now come on, darling, and let’s show them to Miss Ridgeman and Annie.”
    â€œAnd Ad’laide,” said Irma,