“In her possession. She was afraid I would give it to you.”
“Why did you not tell me all this before? Come, I will soon settle the affair.”
When they reached the room, Annabel sank almost lifeless on a sofa; and Piers touched a hand-bell. Justine called from an inner room:
“I will answer at my leisure, Miss.”
Piers walked to the dividing door, and threw it open. “You will answer now, at my command. Come here, and come quickly.”
“My lord–I did not mean–”
“Stand there, and answer truly the questions I shall ask; or I promise you a few years on the treadmill, if not a worse punishment. Do you know that you are guilty of black-mailing, and of obtaining money on false pretences?–both crimes to be expiated on the gallows.”
“My lord, it is a true pretence. Miss Vyner stole your ring. She knows she did.”
“She could not steal anything I have; she is welcome to whatever of mine she desires. How much money have you taken from Miss Vyner?”
“I have not taken one half-penny,” answered Justine, sulkily. “She gave me the money; she dare not say different. Speak, Miss, you know you gave it to me.” But Annabel had recovered something of her old audacity. She felt she was safe, and she was not disposed to mercy. She only smiled scornfully, and re-arranged the satin cushions under her head more comfortably.