Christina's eyes, wide with fright, and bewildered with the shock of being questioned so brusquely and severely, looked from Sir Arthur to Lady Cicely, as though appealing for help, and Cicely said quietly—
"Cousin Arthur—what does all this mean?"
"It means," he said grimly, "that your child's nurse—her lady nurse—is wearing the pendant for which the police and I have been searching in vain. It means——"
"No, oh, no!" Cicely broke in. "I can't believe what you are implying. It couldn't be true. Christina tell Sir Arthur he is making a mistake. Tell him where your pendant comes from."
"From my mother," the girl faltered, still too taken aback by the unexpected onslaught, to be able to think clearly. "This pendant belonged to her; she gave it to me, and I——"
"Tut, tut!" Sir Arthur interrupted irritably; "it is futile to try and throw dust in our eyes in this way. That pendant is unmistakable—quite unmistakable—no one who had once seen it, could be under any delusion about it. It is unique—an heirloom in our family. The very letters above the emerald, are initials of an ancestress of mine."
Christina stood there silently whilst the above words were hurled at her, but her face grew paler and paler, fear deepened in her eyes.
"My mother—gave it to me," she said again, when as Sir Arthur ended, there was an expectant pause, as though some explanation was demanded from her; "she gave it to me when she died—it was hers."
"Then you can, of course, tell us for what names the letters stand?" Sir Arthur said slowly, a tinge of contempt in his voice; and because of that note of contempt, Cicely moved nearer to the shrinking girl, whose frightened, bewildered expression moved the little lady's heart to pity for her, and indignation against the angry old man.
"Cousin Arthur," she said impulsively, "it is not fair to judge Christina, before she has explained about the pendant. Everybody in this land is innocent until he is proved guilty—that is surely only the bare law," and Cicely laughed a little nervously, looking round for support to Miss Doubleday, her kindly old governess, who, also moved by pity for the accused girl, had drawn nearer to Christina.