“Sell your jewels,” he said in amazement, “why? Are you——” he checked himself.
“I am not very poor,” she said quietly, “I have enough money to live on without working again—my last play was a very great success, and happily the profits——” She stopped dead. “At any rate, I am not poor.”
“Then why sell your jewelry? Are you going to buy others?” he blurted out.
She shook her head, and a smile dawned in her eyes.
“No, my plan is this: I am going to sell the jewelry for what it is worth, and then I want you to distribute the money to such charities as you think best.”
He was too astonished to answer, and she went on:
“I know very little about charities and their values. I know in some cases all the money subscribed is swallowed up in officials’ salaries. But you will know these.”
“Are you serious?” he at last found his voice to ask.
“Quite,” she nodded gravely. “I think they are worth from twelve to twenty thousand. I am not sure. They are mine,” she went on a little defiantly, and unnecessarily so, thought Tab, “and I may do as I wish with them. I want them to be sold and the money distributed.”
“But my dear Miss Ardfern——” he began.