But when, a few minutes later, she joined me in the room just designated, I own that my task became suddenly hateful to me. She was not far from my own daughter's age, and, had it not been for her furtive look of care, appeared almost as blooming and bright. Would it ever come to pass that a harsh man of the law should feel it his duty to speak to my Flora as I must now speak to the young girl before me? The thought made me inwardly recoil, and it was in as gentle a manner as possible that I made my bow and began with the following remark:
"I hope you will pardon me, Miss Glover—I am told that is your name. I hate to disturb your pleasure"—this with the tears of alarm and grief rising in her eyes—"but you can tell me something which will greatly simplify my task, and possibly put matters in such shape that you and your friends can be released to your homes."
"I?"
She stood before me with amazed eyes, the colour rising in her cheeks. I had to force my next words, which, out of consideration for her, I made as direct as possible.
"Yes, miss. What was the article you were seen to pick up from the driveway soon after leaving your carriage?"
She started, then stumbled backward, tripping in her long train.
"I pick up?" she murmured. Then with a blush, whether of anger or pride I could not tell, she coldly answered: "Oh, that was something of my own—something I had just dropped. I had rather not tell you what it was."
I scrutinised her closely. She met my eyes squarely, yet not with just the clear light I should, remembering Flora, have been glad to see there.
"I think it would be better for you to be entirely frank," said I. "It was the only article known to have been picked up from the driveway after Mr. Deane's loss of the ruby; and though we do not presume to say that it was the ruby, yet the matter would look clearer to us all if you would frankly state what this object was."
Her whole body seemed to collapse, and she looked as if about to sink.