“I will give it to Miss Pym,” he said, wondering how much or how little Lilia knew of her father’s personal affairs.
“Nurse came to bring me this,” he said, returning to Lilia. “She says it contains a locket and chain she found around—his—neck.”
“A locket—round—his—neck? It must be a mistake,” said Lilia, confidently. “He never wore any jewellery—except, of course, his watchchain. He did not approve of men decking themselves out with ornaments.”
“Well, you can soon find out if it is a mistake,” he said, handing her the packet.
She hesitated, took the package, then laid it down on the table as if the touch of it had scorched her.
“I cannot!” she said, with a sob. “It seems—such prying, such desecration! You open it.”
There was something so childish in her change of voice as she pushed the packet towards him, that instinctively Hugh felt comforted. All the preceding palaver might have been partly the masquerading of a child, suddenly called upon to act the woman.
For a moment he hesitated; then he broke the seal, and handing her the locket which had been in his custody at the hospital, said:
“I have seen this before, I think.”
“You?” she asked, recoiling. “How? When?”