"Oh!"
"Yes. It was in a secret drawer in the jewel-box. I can't imagine how he knew it was there, but the box was an old casket, belonging to my husband's family, and I fancy he must have known about the drawer and—well, thought that investigation might prove profitable. Anyway, the evening the diamonds went the portrait went too, and he knows I daren't try to get the necklace back because they'd both be found together."
"Was there something more than just the portrait, then? A portrait in itself isn't necessarily hopeless of explanation. It was given you to take care of, say."
"The names were on it—and—and an inscription which nothing, nothing could ever explain away. A—a passage from Petronius."
"Oh, dear!" said Lord Peter, "dear me, yes. Rather a lively author."
"I was married very young," said Mrs. Ruyslaender, "and my husband and I have never got on well. Then one year, when he was in Africa, it all happened. We were wonderful—and shameless. It came to an end. I was bitter. I wish I had not been. He left me, you see, and I couldn't forgive it. I prayed day and night for revenge. Only now—I don't want it to be through me!"
"Wait a moment," said Wimsey, "you mean that, if the diamonds are found and the portrait is found too, all this story is bound to come out."
"My husband would get a divorce. He would never forgive me—or him. It is not so much that I mind paying the price myself, but——"
She clenched her hands.
"I have cursed him again and again, and the clever girl who married him. She played her cards so well. This would ruin them both."