“It is very curious,” said Cora, looking at the ornaments eagerly. “I seem to have seen them before.”
“Some like ’em, my dear. Lots of ’em are made and sold.”
“Mrs Barclay, I know those are Lady Teigne’s diamonds,” cried Claire again.
“And I know they are not, my dear child. I’ll tell you why: they’re not diamonds at all, only some fairish imitations—paste—that my Jo-si-ah bought.”
“No, no,” persisted Claire; “they are valuable diamonds.”
“Well, my dear, I’m not a clever woman at all; but I’ve had so much to do with precious stones that I can’t help telling ’em directly. There’s nothing valu’ble about them but the silver setting, and if you melt that down there isn’t ten pounds’ worth in the lot.”
“Mrs Barclay—”
“Ah, I’m right, my dear. Those aren’t diamonds, but paste; and I remember Josiah saying when I laughed at him, and asked him if he had been taken in—I remember him saying that they were a good-looking lot, and he should keep ’em to let on hire to some lively lady who wanted a suite, and whom he didn’t care to trust with diamonds. There, now, are you satisfied?”
“No,” cried Claire. “I am certain that I am right. That cross! I know it so well. I’ve had it in my hands a hundred times. Those bracelets, too. I have often clasped them on Lady Teigne’s wrists.”
“And put that ornament in her hair, and the other thing round her neck?” said Mrs Barclay, smiling.