CHAPTER XXV.
The new Earl of St. Austell was not the man to lose any opportunity of making a good bargain. Deborah Audaer had promised to ask him a favor which should put money in his pocket, and although he was puzzled by the offer, he was so desperately anxious to hear it that the news of the capture of his brother’s supposed murderer came to him only as a tiresome interruption.
“Well, well, this favor you want of me, what is it?” he repeated, impatiently. “Of course, Miss Audaer, you know I am only too happy at any time to——”
“Thank you, yes, of course,” answered Deborah, with one eye upon him and one upon the staircase, as the sounds of voices and scuffling seemed to subside a little. “I want to ask you if you will forgive any injuries you or poor Lord St. Austell may have received from two men who were merely the tools of Amos Goodhare. I can convince you that they had nothing to do with his murder; in fact, one of them has been stabbed by Amos so severely that I am afraid he may not recover. Will you promise this?” A pause, during which Charles Cenarth looked doubtfully at the candle. “I should not have had to ask your brother twice,” she added, with a touch of dry irony.
“And where is the advantage this would bring to me?” asked he, doubtfully.
“I could restore to you the lost jewels. The setting I believe, is gone beyond recovery.”
He looked at her as if he could scarcely believe his ears.
“Restore the jewels!” he repeated, hardly daring to utter the words aloud. Then he added with an abrupt change of tone: “If you know where they are you are bound to give them up.”
“Yes, so I am—to the police,” said Deborah, quietly.
He looked at her askance, with much mistrust. This was a disagreeably sharp young woman.