"Good or bad?" she whispered breathlessly.
There was no use beating around the bush. "Bad," I said bluntly.
A hand went to her breast. "Tell me—quickly."
I drew out the case. She gave no sign of recognising it. I snapped it open. "Is this the lost necklace?" I asked.
With a little cry, she seized upon it, examined the pearls, breathed upon them, looked at the clasp. "Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed, joy struggling in her face with an underlying terror. "Where did you get it?"
"Out of a safe in Mr. Quarles' flat."
She looked at me stricken stupid.
I had to repeat the words.
"Oh!—you would not deceive me?" she whispered.
"I wish to God it were not true!" I cried.