“And that casket?”
“It was left in the empty cart so that my husband brought it back with the rings. I kept silence, as he had done. It was already an old story, and I was afraid of the scandal, too.... They might have accused my husband. It was just as well to keep my mouth shut. I went away to Lillebonne with my daughter, and it was only when Bridget left me to go on the stage that she took the rings ... which for my part I never wanted to touch.... That’s the whole story, Monsieur. Don’t ask me anything else.”
“What do you mean, the whole story?” said Leonard, and he sneered again.
“It’s all I know,” said the widow fearfully.
“But I’ve no interest in that precious story of yours. What we’re quarreling about is another thing.... As you very well know.”
“What do you mean?”
“The letters carved on the inside of the casket, on the lid—that’s the whole point of the business.”
“Those half rubbed-out letters! I swear to you, good gentleman, I never even dreamed of trying to make them out.”
“That’s all right, and I’m quite willing to believe it,” said Leonard. “But then we come again to the original point: what has become of the casket?”
“I’ve told you. It was taken from me—the evening before you came to Lillebonne with the lady, the lady who wore a thick veil.”