"You are right," admitted Burbeck, in tones of conviction; "you are right."
But still he could not bring himself to touch the diamonds, and stood gazing as if charmed by the evil spell they wrought. Sensing this, the minister took up from his desk a long envelope which bore his name and address in the corner, opened it, lifted the sparkling string by one end, dropped it inside, moistened the flap, sealed it, and handed it to Burbeck.
"There," he exclaimed, "you don't even have to touch them again. Go straight to her hotel."
"Oh, but I cannot," exclaimed Rollie, apprehension trembling in his tones. "I shall not dare to leave the bank until the shortage is covered. The executors might come in ahead of time, and I must be there to stall them off, if necessary. But I might telephone to Miss Dounay."
"Telephones are leaky instruments," objected Hampstead, with a shake of his head.
"Or send her a note," suggested Burbeck.
"Notes miscarry," controverted the minister sagaciously, "and they do not always die when their mission is accomplished. Since you are taking my advice, I would say summon all your self-control, contain your secret in patience during the hours you must wait until your shortage is made good, and you can leave the bank to see Miss Dounay in person. You must do your part entirely alone, for my lips are sealed."
"Sealed?" questioned Rollie, not quite comprehending.
"Yes, the secret is your own. Think of your confession as made to God!"
"You mean that you would never tell on me, no matter what happened?"