"Indeed, Uncle Jasper, I don't know in the least what you are talking about," Joy said stressfully; "indeed, indeed I don't!"
"How can you stand there and look me the face with such a falsehood on your lips!" he cried passionately. "And yet, how you wheedled me into believing in you last night! Oh, child, it shocks me to find you such a two-faced little girl! Come, I don't want to be harsh on you, but you must confess everything, and give the brooch back."
"Confess everything, and give the brooch back?" Joy echoed, wonderingly. "Oh, I don't understand! I don't indeed!"
"Do not utter any more falsehoods!" said the old man; "you know perfectly well what you have done. Go, and fetch the jewel at once!"
"What jewel?" Joy cried, almost wildly, trying hard to keep back the tears which filled her eyes, and threatened to overflow.
"The diamond brooch you stole from my safe whilst I was asleep last night, when you told me you had been closing the window for fear I should catch cold in the draught—pretending to take care of the poor old uncle, when all the time you had been robbing him! Fie upon you!"
"Uncle Jasper, you may believe me or not," said the little girl solemnly, "but I never went near your safe until you told me to lock it and give you the key. Oh, do believe me! Oh, I think you will break my heart!"
Sir Jasper regarded her searchingly; he wavered for a moment, for the ring of truth he thought he discerned in her voice puzzled him, and her eyes did not flinch beneath his gaze. Rising, he crossed the room to his safe, and examined its contents most carefully. Joy watched him turning over papers and documents; and then saw him scrutinising various jewels and ornaments, which he took from a velvet-lined case.
"I have made no mistake," he said at length, shutting the door of the safe, and locking it securely. His excitement was cooling down now, but he felt positive that his companion had taken the missing jewel. He recalled his conversation with her on the previous night, remembered all she had told him concerning his gamekeeper's wife, and her acquaintances at A—, and marvelled how she could have so talked to him. What a consummate hypocrite the child must be!
"It is useless your denying it," he proceeded decidedly. "I know you have stolen the brooch, but I am going to give you an opportunity of bringing it back to me. You need not get it now, for I hear the carriage coming around to the door, and it is time for you and your mother to start for T—. I do not wish any fuss made on the night of your sister's return, she must not come back to find you in disgrace—but, the first thing the morning I shall expect you to bring the brooch back."