“Isabel, bring me that box,” said Mrs. Coolidge, pointing to Brownie’s casket, which stood upon the table behind her.
Miss Coolidge obeyed and Brownie uttered a cry of astonishment as she saw it.
“How came you by that? Where did you get it?” she said, starting forward her lips quivering, and a choking sensation in her throat.
Her dear, precious casket, still sacred from the last fond touches of Miss Mehetabel’s hand, profaned by their ruthless handling!
But all this emotion was but an evidence of guilt in the eyes of those hard-hearted women.
“Is not that guilt, mamma, if you ever saw it?” whispered Isabel in her mother’s ear.
She nodded her head sternly, and then turned to face her victim again.
“I will explain, Miss Douglas. The jewels which you wore to the opera are in this box with others of much greater value. Were these others given to you?”
“They were.”
“At the same time?”