“I am always cold.”
“Have you just returned from a journey?”
Sep started, and began to tremble so violently that Deborah, with her wits on the alert, began to have an inkling of the truth.
“Listen, Sep,” she said in a low, earnest voice. “I know the trouble you and Rees are in. It is through that man Goodhare, I feel sure.”
“Sh-sh,” interrupted Jocelyn, glancing around him fearfully.
“I’ve come to get you all out of it. If you will tell me where the jewels are, I can promise you that nothing will ever be heard of the business. And if you will come back to Carstow with me, I can promise that your aunt, who misses you most dreadfully, will take you back to her arms without a word of reproach.”
“Oh, no; she couldn’t now. You don’t know—I can’t tell you; but it’s too late. The next shelter I get will be a prison.”
Deborah was shocked. He was altogether broken down, a mere wreck, a shivering, quaking creature, broken-nerved, bemuddled, helpless.
“Lord St. Austell’s influence will keep you out of prison.”
“Lord St. Austell!” Sep started violently. “Why, he’s the very last person to help us. He has no end of grudges against us, if he only knew.”