"Nothing more than that?"
"I never thought she had been guilty of anything—well, immoral, heinous."
"You say," Bristow changed the course of questioning, "she pawned her jewels twice. How did she do that? Where did she get the money to redeem them after the first pawning?"
"I don't know. I never could find out."
"You had no six or seven thousand dollars to give her for that purpose, as I understand it?"
"No."
"Where did she get it, then?" Bristow's questions, despite their directness, were free from offense.
"I—I thought," Withers began again and paused. "I thought that, perhaps, her father helped her out, got the jewels out of pawn both times for her."
"Did you ever ask him?"
"Yes; and he denied having done so. But, you see, my theory is borne out. Before, when she pawned them, her father was wealthy; and she was his favourite child. She knew he would help her. But now his money is gone. He's failed. Consequently, she has not pawned them this time. She knew there would be no chance to redeem them."