"That's not an answer. You'll not take it from her?"
"I will not. Keep it, my child, and be happy."
"Do you hear, little lady? Let us be thankful for small mercies. Shake hands, my dear. When you're a woman grown, don't forget Old Corrie."
"I never will--I never will," sobbed Annette.
"And don't forget," said Old Corrie, laying his hand on Basil's shoulder, "that Master Basil here is a gentleman to be honoured and loved, a man to be proud of, a man to treasure in your heart."
"I will never forget it," said Annette; with a fond look at Basil.
"And this, I think," said Gilbert Bidaud, with genial smiles all round, "is the end of an act. Let the curtain fall to slow music."
But it was not destined so to fall. As Annette's aunt turned to leave with her niece, her eyes, dwelling scornfully on Basil for a moment, caught sight of the chain attached to the locket which Annette had put round his neck. Quick as lightning she put her hand to the child's neck, and discovered the loss.
"He has stolen Annette's locket!" she cried, pointing to the chain.
As quick in his movements as his sister, Gilbert Bidaud stretched forth his hand and tore the locket and chain from Basil's neck. It was done so swiftly and suddenly that Basil was unable to prevent it; but the hot blood rushed into his face as he said: