“This is a terrible misfortune, but a private matter—not for the police. You will not tell them how—by accident—I struck my wife?”
“No,” said Cornel, after a pause; and a shudder ran through her.
“Hah! Then the law need not meddle with what was a private quarrel—a mistake. My wife, here, shall live, and you who are so good and beautiful and kind, you shall be silent, and—one moment.”
He fumbled with the clasp of the bag he had picked up, opened it, and, as Cornel’s brows contracted with horror, he searched within and drew out a magnificent diamond and sapphire bracelet.
“Hah!” he cried. “You will wear that for both our sakes, and be silent, and blind to the past.”
“I will be silent and blind, for the sake of the man I loved,” she said to herself, as she thrust back the jewel and shook her head.
“But you will not tell?” he said.
“No, sir; your secret is safe.”
The Conte uttered a sigh of satisfaction, threw back the bracelet, and closed the bag with a snap, while Cornel eyed him with disgust.
“Do you intend to risk removing this lady?”