"But who would buy them?"
"If you have been so clever, Lady Eustace, I'll find a purchaser for them. One would have to go a good distance to do it,—and there would be some expense. But the thing could be done. Vienna, I should think, would be about the place."
"Very well, then," said Lizzie. "You won't be surprised if I ask you to take the journey for me." Then they all laughed, and were very much amused. It was quite agreed among them that Lizzie bore her loss very well.
"I shouldn't care the least for losing them," said Lizzie,—"only that Florian gave them to me. They have been such a vexation to me that to be without them will be a comfort." Her desk had been brought into the carriage and was now used as a foot-stool in place of the box which was gone.
They arrived at Mrs. Carbuncle's house in Hertford Street quite late, between ten and eleven;—but a note had been sent from Lizzie to her cousin Frank's address from the Euston Square station by a commissionaire. Indeed, two notes were sent,—one to the House of Commons, and the other to the Grosvenor Hotel. "My necklace has been stolen. Come to me early to-morrow at Mrs. Carbuncle's house, No. —, Hertford Street." And he did come,—before Lizzie was up. Crabstick brought her mistress word that Mr. Greystock was in the parlour soon after nine o'clock. Lizzie again hurried on her clothes so that she might see her cousin, taking care as she did so that though her toilet might betray haste, it should not be other than charming. And as she dressed she endeavoured to come to some conclusion. Would it not be best for her that she should tell everything to her cousin, and throw herself upon his mercy, trusting to his ingenuity to extricate her from her difficulties? She had been thinking of her position almost through the entire night, and had remembered that at Carlisle she had committed perjury. She had sworn that the diamonds had been left by her in the box. And should they be found with her it might be that they would put her in gaol for stealing them. Little mercy could she expect from Mr. Camperdown should she fall into that gentleman's hands! But Frank, if she would even yet tell him everything honestly, might probably save her.
"What is this about the diamonds?" he asked as soon as he saw her. She had flown almost into his arms as though carried there by the excitement of the moment. "You don't really mean that they have been stolen?"
"I do, Frank."
"On the journey?"
"Yes, Frank;—at the inn at Carlisle."
"Box and all?" Then she told him the whole story;—not the true story, but the story as it was believed by all the world. She found it to be impossible to tell him the true story. "And the box was broken open, and left in the street?"