“Prepared, Lady Drelincourt?”
“Of course. I only want a temporary loan, and here are my diamonds.”
She drew a morocco case from the large reticule hanging on her arm, and passed it across the table.
Barclay opened the case, took out a glittering necklet, breathed upon it, glanced at the rest of the contents of the case, replaced the necklet, and closed it.
“Well, monster,” said her ladyship playfully, “will that do?”
“Admirably, my lady,” said Barclay, taking a cash-box from a drawer, and counting out, with deft fingers, a number of notes. “Four fifty-five,” he muttered, as he passed the rustling bundle across to his visitor, and slipped the case and cash-box back.
“I must have no nonsense about those diamonds, Barclay,” said her ladyship, “when I want them back.”
“Your ladyship has only to sign this paper,” replied Barclay, “and hand me 600 pounds, and the gems come back to their owner.”
“Ah, Barclay, you are a dreadful ogre,” she sighed, as she slipped the notes into her reticule. “You are quite as bad as a highwayman.”
“Only more useful, my lady,” chuckled Barclay. “Well, Joseph?”