“Shall I bring Queen Alma here to say it was her property?” he cried.
“You have found it!” he chattered with great excitement.
“That would be better. If Queen Alma—whoever she is—owns the bracelet we will give it to her when she proves property.”
The little man uttered a staccato speech in a foreign tongue. Agnes did not understand. He spread wide his arms in a gesture of seemingly utter despair.
“And Queen Alma!” he sputtered. “She is dead these two—no! t’ree hundred year!”
“Mercy me!” gasped Agnes, backing away from him and sitting suddenly down in one of the straight-backed hall chairs. “Mercy me!”