"It contains the hundred pounds which were in your purse."
"But not my pretty purse itself?"
"No."
Miss Hunt eagerly broke the seals, untied the string, and opened the parcel. The gold was wrapped in tissue paper; the notes were in a neat roll.
"Count the money, please," said Keith.
She did so, and in a very business-like way.
"The sum is quite correct," she said. And now she raised her bright, dark eyes, and looked full at the young man. "What is the meaning of all this?" she inquired. "Why should you give me back my hundred pounds?"
"You are at liberty to draw any conclusions which occur to you," said Keith. He spoke deliberately, and with pauses between his words. "I trust to what I am sure is your kindly nature not to make things too—difficult."
It was with an effort that he could bring out the words; they stung him as they passed his lips.
"I cannot give you back your purse, I regret to say," he continued, "but the money at least is yours again. Will you kindly let the superintendent at Scotland Yard know, in order that the driver may not get into trouble?"