"But why is he her enemy?"
"Ah, I cannot tell you. It must be a secret between her and him. I know that some of the city people have an ill-will to Salwey—he lives among foes, like a tongue among teeth." Just at this moment the door was dashed violently open, and Mrs. Chandos, followed by Dominga and Nicky, entered the room without ceremony. "There has been a robbery," announced Mrs. Chandos, who was evidently in a condition of extraordinary excitement.
"Not of fowl?" cried Mrs. Lopez, struggling to her feet.
"No," burst in Nicky, "all Verona's things—her jewellery, I mean."
"Now why you come telling these tales now, while the poor girl is so seek?" cried her grandmother, "go away, all of you—go away."
"Oh, but I must tell her!" said Mrs. Chandos, turning to Verona, "I locked up that bag, you know, in the press in the Dufta. Just now I go; the lock is not broken, but the top is off the press—and the jewellery is stolen out of the bag."
"All?"
"Well, the gold watch and chain, the bangles and rings, and the beautiful necklace. Oh! my! my! my!" and she put her hands to her head. "What villains people are! Whatt wickedness! Whatt shall I do?"
"Send for the police," suggested Verona, in a weak whisper.
"Pah! the police!" cried Mrs. Chandos, "they are torturers and murderers—if you wait for them you will never see your things. They come—they walk about—they stare, then they take away the servants; they pull the men's beards, they pinch the women, they make all to eat sweetmeats, which cause awful thirst, and give no water, till they confess—lies. Che-a-ah! the police!" and she paused breathless.