"In Esther's bag."
Jeffrey stood staring at her, and Lydia unwinkingly stared at him. She was conscious of but one desire: that he would not scowl so. And yet she knew it was the effort of attention and no hostile sign. He spoke now, and gently because he saw how great a strain she was under.
"You'll have to tell me about it, Lydia. Where was the bag?"
"It was on her bed," said Lydia. "I went into the room and saw it there. Madame Beattie told me she was going to New York—"
"No. Esther. To hide the necklace. So Madame Beattie shouldn't get it. And I saw the bag. And I knew the necklace must be in it. So I took it."
By this time her hands were shaking and her lips chattered piteously. Jeffrey was wholly perplexed, but bitterly sorry for her.
"What made you bring it here, dear?" said he.
Lydia caught at the endearing word, and something like a spasm moved her face.
"I had to," said she. "It has made all the trouble."