"No; you can not get them," cried Sally, hoarsely, her teeth chattering, her eyes fairly dilating with fright; "they are not there!"
CHAPTER XLVII.
Young Mrs. Gardiner stooped down until her lips were on a level with the maid's ear.
"My diamonds are not in the little leather hand-bag, Antoinette," she panted. "The hour has come when I must make a confidant of you, and ask you to help me, Antoinette. You are clever; your brain is full of resources; and you must help me out of this awful web that has tangled itself about me. I—I lost the diamonds on the night of the grand ball—the last night we were at Newport, and—and I dare not tell my husband. Now you see my position, Antoinette. I—I can not wear the diamonds, and I do not know how to turn my husband from his purpose of making me put them on. He may refuse to go down to the reception-room—or, still worse, he may ask for them. I can not see the end, Antoinette. I am between two fires. I do not know which way to leap to save myself. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, my lady," returned the wily maid. "Leave your trouble to me. I will find some way to get you out of it."
"You must think quickly, Antoinette!" cried Sally, excitedly. "He said he would return for me within ten minutes. Half that time has already passed. Oh—oh! what shall I do?"
"You must not excite yourself, my lady," replied Antoinette, quickly. "Worry brings wrinkles, and you can not afford to have any but pleasant thoughts. I have said you can rely upon me to think of some way out of the dilemma."
"That is easier said than done, Antoinette," declared her mistress, beginning to pace excitedly up and down the room, the color burning in two bright red spots on her cheeks.
Antoinette crossed over to the window, and stood looking out thoughtfully into the darkness. Her brain was busy with the numerous schemes that were flitting through it.