Goldenheart:
You have a strange power over me—you can sway me to your will when I am in your presence. But now, alone, I am my own man and my better self protests at our secret. You know where the jewels are hidden. Take the emeralds, if you like, and forgive and forget
Eric.
The note fell like a bombshell. Everybody gasped at this revelation of the artist’s intrigue with his model. Joyce turned white to her very lips, and Barry flushed scarlet.
“Call Miss Vernon,” commanded the Coroner, abruptly.
Natalie came in, looking lovelier than ever, and quite composed now. Without a word, Lamson handed her the note.
The girl read it, and returned it. Except for the trembling of her lip, which she bit in her endeavour to control it, she was calm and self-possessed.
“Well?” said the Coroner, as gentle toward her now as he had been fierce before, “what does that note to you mean?”
Natalie turned the full gaze of her troubled eyes on him. If her angel face was ever appealing, it was doubly so now, when her drooped mouth and quivering chin told of her desperate distress.
“It is not to me,” she whispered.
“That’s right,” Bobsy Roberts thought; “stick to that, now. It’s fine!”
“It was written to you, and left in Mr. Stannard’s desk. Where are the emeralds? Where are the other jewels hidden?”