Lizzie, when she first heard the news, was awe-struck, rather than outwardly demonstrative of grief. "There has been a regular plot," said Lord George. Captain Fitzmaurice, the gallant chief, nodded his head. "Plot enough," said the superintendent,—who did not mean to confide his thoughts to any man, or to exempt any human being from his suspicion. The manager of the hotel was very angry, and at first did not restrain his anger. Did not everybody know that if articles of value were brought into an hotel they should be handed over to the safe-keeping of the manager? He almost seemed to think that Lizzie had stolen her own box of diamonds. "My dear fellow," said Lord George, "nobody is saying a word against you, or your house."
"No, my lord;—but—"
"Lady Eustace is not blaming you, and do not you blame anybody else," said Lord George. "Let the police do what is right."
At last the men retreated, and Lizzie was left with Patience and Mrs. Carbuncle. But even then she did not give way to her grief, but sat upon the bed awe-struck and mute. "Perhaps I had better get dressed," she said at last.
"I feared how it might be," said Mrs. Carbuncle, holding Lizzie's hand affectionately.
"Yes;—you said so."
"The prize was so great."
"I always was a-telling my lady—" began Crabstick.
"Hold your tongue!" said Lizzie angrily. "I suppose the police will do the best they can, Mrs. Carbuncle?"
"Oh yes;—and so will Lord George."