“Well, you’d better do it now before you forget,” she said, smiling at him and patting his hand. She pointed to the writing-bureau in the corner of the room. “You just scribble it on a half-sheet, and seal it up, and write on the envelope ‘to be opened in the event of my death,’ and post it to your solicitors. That’s all.”
“You seem to have thought it all out,” he laughed, going to the bureau.
“Oh, James!” she exclaimed, reproachfully. “What dreadful things you do say!”
His departure on the following morning was unceremonious. In spite of Dolly’s anxieties in regard to his safety, the fact remained that he was only going away for a couple of months or thereabouts. He was to take but a single portmanteau with him; his precious diamonds were to be carried in a knotted handkerchief in his pocket; and in his hand he would hold only a stout walking-stick. The only persons who appeared to be concerned at his going were the two little girls; and even they—as is the habit of children—returned to their play before the carriage had left the door.
Dolly had said she would drive with him into Oxford to see him off in the train; but, as he was to depart at an early hour, she was not dressed in time, and was therefore obliged to bid him “good-bye” at the foot of the stairs. She looked a pretty little creature, standing there in a pink dressing-gown, with the morning sunlight striking upon her fair hair, which fell around her shoulders, as though she had been disturbed in the act of combing it, and with a background of the dark portraits of previous owners of the manor. In her hand she was carrying a large bunch of apple-blossom, which she accounted for by saying that she had just been picking it from outside her bedroom window at the moment when he called out to her. Knowing her habit of studying effects, Jim felt sure that she had thought out this charming picture, and had never had any intention of accompanying him to the station; nor had he the heart to ask her why, if she had but now plucked the blossom from the tree, the stems should be dripping with water as though just lifted from a vase.
“Every picture tells a story,” he muttered to himself as he drove away, “and some tell downright lies.”
Chapter XII: THE ESCAPE
On his arrival in Paris, his sensations were not far removed from bliss; but soon he was obliged to set about the tedious business of selling his diamonds, one by one, in a manner so unobtrusive and anonymous that no particular notice should be paid to the deals. He was somewhat disappointed to find that, in spite of his expert knowledge both of the stones and of the channels for their disposal, he failed to avoid a slight loss on the various transactions; but he was in no mood to bargain, and he was well content, at the end of the second day, to be rid of a quarter of his collection, and to feel the notes, which were to be the support of his future wanderings, pleasantly bulging out of his pocket-book.