"Oh, Marie, I did not kill her," she gasped, feebly. "She was weak and sick; she fell down dead in my room, most probably with heart disease. I was frightened. I thought I might be accused of murder, so I hid the body."
"A very unwise thing to do, as you would not get any one to believe that story, especially if I showed them this," replied Marie, drawing from her pocket the piece of bronze bric-à-brac, and showing Jewel a dull red stain on its brightness.
She shuddered, and asked:
"Why have you kept the secret so long?"
"To forward my own interests," Marie answered, promptly. "You will retain me in your service as long as I choose to remain, and you will raise my wages to three hundred dollars per month. I think that is very reasonable, considering everything; and, besides, you ought to be very grateful to me for keeping your awful secret."
Jewel knew that this was quite true. She would have sacrificed her whole fortune rather than that her guilty secret should be betrayed.
"Does any one else know?" she asked.
"I have never opened my lips," Marie replied, truthfully; and Jewel very gladly consented to the terms of her silence.
She went to her lover, and the full glass of wine she had taken was not sufficient to steady her nerves. She trembled like one with a chill, and he begged her to remain at home, declaring that the shock she had received made her look too ill to go to the entertainment.
But not for any consideration would Jewel have remained at home and left the field clear for Laurie to linger by the side of her rival.