“I do—to tell that which I wish to tell,” gasped Mrs. Jasher, trying to raise herself. “Sir Frank! Sir Frank!” Her voice sounded hoarse and weak.
“Yes, Mrs. Jasher,” said the young man, coming softly to the bedside.
She thrust out a weak hand and clutched him.
“You must be my father-confessor, and hear all. You got the emerald?”
“What!” Random recoiled in astonishment, “Did you—”
“Yes, I sent it to you as a wedding present. I was sorry and I was afraid; and I—I—” She paused again, gasping.
The doctor intervened and gave her more brandy.
“You must not talk,” he insisted severely, “or I shall turn Sir Frank and Mr. Hope out of the room.”
“No! no! Give me more brandy—more—more.” and when the doctor placed a tumbler to her lips, she drank so greedily that he had to take the glass away lest she should do herself harm. But the ardent spirit put new life into her, and with a superhuman effort she suddenly reared herself in the bed.
“Come here, Hope—come here, Random,” she said in a much stronger voice. “I have much to tell you. Yes, I took the emerald after dark and threw it into the sentry box when the man wasn't looking. I escaped your spy, Random, and I escaped the notice of the sentry. I walked like a cat, and like a cat I can see in the dark. I am glad you have got the emerald.”