“'Hist!' I said to him, 'I have something amusing to show you. Kneel down by this opening and look at the little acolyte. Lean forward.'
“The fool obeyed. He knelt, his big hands holding to the edge of the trap, and peered into the darkness below. I let the door of the trap fall. It was a square of solid masonry, easy enough to let fall, but too heavy for one man to lift alone. But he was a trifle too quick for me, drew back his head like a snake. It caught his hands. He howled like a dog. I tore off a fastening of the Virgin's robe and hid it in his gown. He fainted before I had gone out of the place.
“I had a hand-bag and a waiting droshky; I packed away my jewels and left Moscow by the first train. I went to Paris, traveling at. speed with all the art of disguise and subterfuge I could command. Nevertheless, on my way from the Gare du Nord to the address Brane had given me, I thought that I was being followed. Of course, I gave the cocher another number, went in at a certain house I knew, escaped by the back, and made my way on foot to Brane's apartment, unobserved. They made no difficulty about admitting me. I found everything in confusion. Brane had packed his boxes. He was planning a journey.” She laughed bitterly. “I did n't know it then, but, in the interval, he'd met this little black-eyed American woman and he'd made up his mind to be a bon sujet. He was going to give me the slip. I opened one of his boxes, wrapped up my booty in a dress-coat of his, well at the bottom, and then I hid myself. I wanted to spy upon my Englishman. Brane came in, locked up his luggage, and went out again at once. He was in the apartments barely five minutes, and I never saw him again—the handsome, good-for-nothing devil! I waited for him to come back. Presently some men came in and carried off the boxes. I waited in the apartment for several hours, but my lover did not return. He had gone to America, Janice—think of it! with that treasure in his box.”
The candle, which had been flickering for several minutes, here went out, and she was busy for a while, taking another from her pocket and lighting it. I wondered what time it was. Surely long past midnight. The minutes seemed to hurry through my brain on wings of fear. If only she would sit there, talking, talking, telling me the story of her crimes, till daylight! Then there might be some faint hope for me. They would discover my absence, they would hunt. I might be able to work the handkerchief off of my mouth and risk a cry for help. All sorts of impossible hopes kept darting painfully through my despair. They were infinitely more agonizing than any acceptance of fate, but I was powerless to quiet them. Surely they would search for me; surely they would chance upon that hole in the kitchen closet; surely God would lead them to it! Ah, if only I had told Mary! If only my vanity had not led me to trust only in myself!
“Now, you know the history of the robe, Janice,” began the woman after she had settled herself again at my side. “The treasure that has already caused three deaths, the acolyte's, and Robbie's, and—yours.
“I can't go into all the details of my adventures after I left Brane's apartments. I soon found that he had been married and had gone to America, and it was not long before I had his address. But it was very long, a lifetime, before I was free to come after my treasure. Other adventures intervened. Other people. I wrote some threatening letters, but Brane never answered them, and I was not foolish enough to ruin myself by trying to ruin him. I suppose he knew that and felt safe in ignoring my attempts at blackmail and intimidation.
“Well, I am triumphant now—to-night. How's that for a moral tale? What does the Bible say, 'the ungodly flourish like a green bay-tree'?
“But you will be interested to hear how I came to 'The Pines,' how I managed to hide myself here, how I rid myself of those three idiotic housekeepers and brought you down to take their place, how I introduced Maida and Jaffrey, how I worked the whole affair. I don't know how much you know. But I think there are several things that may surprise you. Now, listen; we have still several hours. You shall have the story—you alone, Janice—the true story of the Pine Cone Mystery. You are my father confessor, Janice. My secrets are as safe with you to-night as though I whispered them into a grave.”