“Then poor Mr. Ponting gave you that box when he said good-bye?” She spoke in a very low voice. “He offered to give it to me. But I wouldn’t take it. He was grateful to you, Aunt Cosy, for all your kindness, so I quite understand his having given it to you.”
The Countess was now looking at Lily with a long, measuring, rather anxious look.
“Yes,” she said at last. “You have guessed the truth! That charming little object belonged to poor Mr. Ponting. He asked me to take it as a last gift; and though I, too, hesitated, feeling the delicacy that you so rightly felt, I did end by taking it, for I thought of Beppo. I knew he would like it. But I did not want to recall that sad affair to-day, when you were all so happy.”
“I wish you would let me tell M. Popeau,” said Lily. “I know the description of that snuff-box has been circulated all over Nice and Mentone——”
“Let me beg you,” cried the Countess hurriedly, “to say nothing about it, Lily! We have suffered enough over that business. They would probably send up again from the police, and it would be odious.”
As the girl, surprised, remained silent, the other went on urgently: “May I trust you? Will you give me your word of honour you will say nothing about the gold box, dear child?”
“I certainly will say nothing if you would rather I did not do so,” said Lily. Still, she was sorry to know that she had unwittingly deceived both Mr. Ponting’s friend and the police. She knew that they had attached considerable importance to the disappearance of the gold box.
Before going upstairs Lily went into the kitchen, and there, lying on the table was the letter which had been posted by Angus Stuart something like thirty-six hours ago. She took it up, Cristina watching her the while.
“Did this letter arrive yesterday morning?” she asked.
Cristina hesitated. “The Countess brought it in about an hour ago; I do not know when it arrived,” she said at last.