"Dishonourable!" cried Lesbia, scornfully.
"Why not?" scoffed her father, "There is honour amongst thieves."
"And you are a thief."
"I am," said Hale, shamelessly. "I was driven to such courses because I wanted money. You may as well know the worst, for I----"
"Oh!" Lesbia threw up her hand, feeling sick at heart. "Don't tell me any more. Leave this house and never see me again."
Hale settled himself firmly in his chair. "I will do nothing of the sort," he declared; "this is my house, whatever Charvington may say. Here I am and here I rest. There's a French soldier's saying for you," he sneered.
"Oh," Lesbia sighed as she looked up, "will nothing make this man ashamed?"
"Nothing!" Hale put his legs up on another chair, "absolutely nothing."
At this moment there came a sharp ring of the front door bell. Hale started to his feet with an ejaculation, and Lesbia could guess that his shameless face had turned white in the shadowy twilight. Apparently he expected the police, as she gathered from his broken mutterings. "But it is impossible," he breathed, clenching his hands; "Charvington said that he would say nothing if the jewels were sent back. I shall send them to-morrow, and if there is a--ah!"
The two listening in the half-dark room heard Tim shuffle along the narrow passage and open the door. A moment later and Mrs. Walker's voice, cold and haughty, struck on their ears. Hale wiped his face and heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't betray me to that woman," he whispered.