"Yes, and also a promise to withdraw from seeking to marry Lady Jane Delham, and to marry you."
"Oh!" Mrs. Hill turned such a withering look on her miserable husband, that he shrank back and covered his eyes. "So this is the real reason of your chivalry?"
"Yes," said Father Don, who had placed the diamonds again in his bag, and stood up, "I heard some of the story from Giles Merry, and read the rest in the signed document. It was Hill who stole the necklace. He took the key from the schoolroom, where it had been left by Lady Ipsen. He opened the safe, and collared the necklace. Near the door, he left a handkerchief of yours, Mrs. Hill, so that, if there was danger, you might be accused. Strode found the handkerchief, and knowing Hill had possessed it, made him confess. Then he made Hill sign the confession that he had stolen the necklace, and also made him promise to marry you."
Mrs. Hill sank down with a stern, shamed look, "So this was your chivalry," she said, looking again at her husband, "you stole the necklace--you let me bear the shame--you tried to incriminate me--you pretended to wed me to save me from starvation, and--oh, you--you shameless-creature!" she leaped, and made as though she would have struck Hill; the man cowered with a cry of alarm like a trapped rabbit.
"What became of the necklace?" she asked Don sharply.
"Strode made Hill sell it, and they divided the profits."
"Eva's father also," moaned Mrs. Hill, covering her face, "oh, shame--shame--shall I ever be able to look on this man's face again!"
Hill attempted to excuse himself, "I didn't get much money," he wailed. "I let Strode take the lot. He carried the confession in his wooden hand--that's why I took it. I stole the hand and opened it--but the confession wasn't in it--I found the diamonds, and I have given them to you--let me have the paper!" he bounded to his feet, and snatching a dagger from a trophy of arms on the wall made for Foxy, "I'll kill you if you don't give it to me!"
Father Don dodged behind a chair, while Foxy, who was right in the centre of the room, ran for the window, and, bursting past Jerry, raced down the lawn with Hill after him, the dagger upraised. Round and round they went, while Mrs. Hill stood on the terrace, looking on with a deadly smile. Had Hill been struck down, she would have rejoiced. Don twitched the arm of Jerry.
"Let's cut," he said; "I've got the swag, Foxy can look after himself," and these two gentlemen left the house hurriedly.