It was a mere matter of form, for not a drawer or box was disturbed; but Jerry's breath came in gasps, and her eyes were like saucers, as she watched the men moving from place to place, and then looked timidly at Arthur to see how he was taking it. He took it very coolly, and when it was over and the men were about to leave, he bade them come again as often as they liked; "they would always find him there ready to receive them, but the diamonds—nix."
This last he said to Jerry, who, the moment they were alone and he had seated himself beside her, put her head on his arm and burst into a hysterical fit of crying.
"Why, Cherry, what is it? Why are you crying so?" he asked, in much concern.
"Oh, I don't know," she sobbed; "only I was so scared all the time they were in the room. What if they had found them! What if they should think that—that—I took them, and should send me to prison, and cut off my hair, and make me eat bread and water and mush, which I hate!"
Arthur looked at her a moment, and then, with a view to comfort her, said, laughingly:
"They would not send you to prison, for I would go in your stead."
"Would you? Could you? I mean, could somebody go for another somebody, if they wanted to ever so much?" Jerry asked, eagerly, as she lifted her tear-stained face to Arthur's.
Without clearly understanding her meaning, and with only a wish to quiet her, Arthur answered, at random:
"Certainly. Have you never heard of people who gave their life for another's? So, why not be a substitute, and go to prison, if necessary?"
"Yes," Jerry answered, with a long-drawn breath, and the cloud lifted a little from her face.