“For God’s sake, Barclay!”
Denville caught at his visitor’s arm, and looked at him in a ghastly way.
“Eh? Why, you look scared. Ah, well, it was stupid to mention it at a time like this. Mustn’t allude to it when they are all here, eh?”
“For heaven’s sake, no.”
“All right, I won’t. I say, Denville, what do you think of that?”
He drew a case from his pocket, opened it, and displayed a necklace of large single diamonds, the sight of which made the MC start and shiver.
“Magnificent!” he faltered.
“I should think they are. All choice picked stones, sir. Belonged to a Countess.”
“To a Countess?” said Denville, in a faltering voice.
“Yes, sir. I say, your bread’s beginning to be buttered thick. Look here.”