“My! My! Such heroics! However, I think you will change your mind. Let me show you something, my dear.”
Setting the lantern on the floor, Highland grasped Rhoda roughly by the arm and led her to a small doorway at the far side of the crypt.
“Tell me what you see,” he purred.
Rhoda drew in her breath sharply and recoiled from the sight. She was speechless with fright.
“My dear, I was not thinking of mistreating you—certainly not,” Highland purred. “No, instead we will bring your aged grandmother down here.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Rhoda gasped. “Why, she’s sick.”
“The damp and cold will be bad for her, no doubt,” agreed the imposter. “When I saw her tonight, she seemed to have developed a severe cough. The onset of pneumonia perhaps.”
“Oh!”
“You could so easily spare her suffering,” continued the man wickedly. “Merely by telling me where you hid the sapphire. I know your grandmother had it when she came into this house. But you made off with it, substituting a paste gem.”
“It’s true, I did hide the gem,” Rhoda confessed. “Punish me—not Grandmother.”