“Will you give me that, once for all, I ask you?” Mrs. Coolidge whispered, hoarsely, with livid face and a deadly light in her light blue eyes.
“I will not!” and the beautiful brown eyes met hers fearlessly, defiantly.
Mrs. Coolidge took a few steps forward, as if impelled by some hidden force, hesitated, bent her head a moment in thought, while an evil smile flitted over her hard features.
Then, assuming a more conciliatory tone, she said:
“Really, Miss Douglas, you are so persistent, and so positive, that you almost persuade me into the belief that the jewels are yours, after all.”
Brownie made no reply to this concession, but stood quietly regarding her enemy.
“Come into my room and let us talk the matter over quietly,” the wily woman added, flashing a cunning look at the young girl from her half-closed eyes. “I think we can come to a better understanding, and I have a proposition to make to you.”
Brownie felt somewhat suspicious of this smooth talk, and feared that the sudden change in Mrs. Coolidge’s manner was only assumed for some hidden purpose; yet she thought it might be better to temporize with her, and it would, perhaps, save publicity.
She could not leave the room, as things were, without making a disturbance, for the door was locked, the key in the woman’s pocket, and she knew of no other means of egress, although there were several arches in the spacious apartment, hung with draperies, which she thought must conceal entrances to some other portion of the house.
“I do not know what better understanding you may wish for,” she replied, coldly. “Your daughter took this box from my room, and I have told you repeatedly that it and its contents belong to me, and you know, as well as I, Mrs. Coolidge, that any judge would decide in my favor should the case be brought into court. But we can talk it over here as well as anywhere.”