“Well, I’m knocked silly,” exclaimed our hero. “I’m sure I beg your pardon.”
“That is the very least you ought to do. You must understand most clearly that I cannot permit you to rob this establishment. Return my jewellery at once, if you please.”
“I did not know it was yours, or I should not have taken it.”
“Much obliged to you for your consideration,” said the lady.
“But I say,” observed Peace, in a wheedling tone, “don’t be so grand and distant. We’ve not met for years, and at one time you knew well enough that I doated on you.”
“Don’t talk like that,” she cried, holding up her hand in a deprecating manner. “We have not met for years. I only wish we had not done so to-night, because it only causes me pain and sorrow.”
“Oh, I dare say it does, but I’m knocked over. Hang it all, do tell me something about your past life—I mean that portion of it since you left Bradford, when you were——”
“Cease, sir. If you do not behave yourself in an orderly and respectful manner I solemnly declare that I will show you no mercy, but will hand you over to the officers of the law without pity or remorse.”
“I do not desire to say anything that may offend you—indeed I do not.”
“My husband would never forgive me if he knew I held parley with a burglar and a convicted criminal.”