"Then, I shall continue to look upon you as Miss Cameron, Countess. It will make it easier for both of us."
"Yes," she said, a little sadly, "I am sure Miss Cameron would not be half so dense as the Countess. She would understand perfectly. She has grown to be a very discerning person, Mr. Barnes, notwithstanding her extreme youth. Miss Cameron is only four days old, you see."
He bowed very low and said: "My proudest boast is that I have known her since the day she was born. If I had the tongue and the courage of O'Dowd I might add a great deal to that statement."
"A great deal that you would not say to a countess?" she asked, playing with fire.
"A great deal that a child four days old could hardly be expected to grasp, Miss Cameron," he replied, pointedly. "Having lived to a great age myself, and acquired wisdom, I appreciate the futility of uttering profound truths to an infant in arms."
She beamed. "O'Dowd could not have done any better than that," she cried. Then quickly, even nervously, as he was about to speak again: "Now, tell me all that Mr. O'Dowd had to say."
He seated himself and repeated the Irishman's warning. Her eyes clouded as he went on; utter dejection came into them.
"He is right. It would be difficult for me to clear myself. My own people would be against me. No one would believe that I did not deliberately make off with the jewels. They would say that I—oh, it is too dreadful!"
"Don't worry about that," he exclaimed. "You have me to testify that—"
"How little you know of intrigue," she cried. "They would laugh at you and say that you were merely another fool who had lost his head over a woman. They would say that I duped you—"