“Ah! you recognize the corals, then? Possibly you remember the first and only time this lady’s aunt wore them, years and years ago?” said his lordship, with bitter irony, while his own face blanched and great drops of perspiration stood upon his forehead. “Those jewels,” he went on, striving for composure, “were given to Miss Mehetabel Douglas, the grandaunt of Mrs. Dredmond, more than forty years ago. I myself presented those corals, also that tiara, with one or two other pieces. The others were given her in honor of her approaching marriage with myself.”
Mrs. Coolidge nearly screamed at this announcement. Yes, she saw it all now; the mystery was all explained—the titled names upon the dancing card, the faded flowers, and everything which had so puzzled her.
But Brownie, thinking a little more explanation was necessary, lifted the velvet bed, and taking up that dancing list, passed it to him, and asked him to unlock the secret of it, since it had greatly troubled Mrs. Coolidge and her daughter.
He took it; but his hand shook as with the ague, as he read the names upon it.
“This,” he said, turning first to Mrs. Coolidge, then to Lady Randal, with stern brow, “is the order of dances as they occurred upon a certain occasion at the house of your aunt, Lady Ruxley, more than forty years ago. Do you remember, Helen?”
“Yes, I remember,” her lips articulated, while her eyes seemed fastened, as if by fascination, upon him.
He referred to the card again, and though his face was ghastly from the pain he was suffering, he went on:
“Do you remember a certain Count de Lussan who was present that evening?”
She bowed her head. She would not have spoken at that moment to save her life, so great was the fear in her heart, while all the events of that fatal night rose up before her with a vividness which turned her sick and faint.
“Do you know how it happened that a man of his character was present among respectable people?”