“There look to hear from me, and very soon.”
They left the tavern together, and the Duke went off to his coach, which had been brought thither for him, his French lackeys trotting beside it, whilst Colonel Holles, with his head in the clouds and a greater swagger than ever in his port to emphasize the shabby condition of his person, rolled along towards Paul’s Yard, fingering the jewel in his ear, which there no longer was the need to sell, although there was no longer the need to retain it, since it had fulfilled, at last, after long years, Destiny’s purpose with himself.
Thus in high good-humour he strutted into the Paul’s Head, to plunge into a deplorable scene with Mrs. Quinn. It was the jewel—this fateful jewel—that precipitated the catastrophe. The sight of it inflamed her anger, driving her incontinently to unwarranted conclusions.
“You haven’t sold it!” she shrilled as he stepped into the back parlour where she was at the moment stirring, and she pointed to the ear-ring, which glowed like an ember under a veil of his brown hair. “You’ve changed your mind. You think to come whimpering here again, that you may save the trinket at my cost.” And then the devil whispered an unfortunate thought, and so begat in her a sudden furious jealousy. Before he could answer her, before he could recover from the gaping amazement in which he stood to receive the onslaught of her wrath, she was sweeping on: “I understand!” She leered an instant evilly. “It’s a love-token, eh? The gift of some fat Flemish burgomaster’s dame, belike, whom ye no doubt cozened as ye would have cozened me. That’s why ye can’t part with it—not even to pay me the money you owe for bed and board, for the food ye’ve guzzled and the wine ye swilled, ye good-for-nothing out-at-elbow jackanapes. But ye’ve had your warning, and since ye don’t heed it ye’ll take the....”
“Hold your peace, woman,” he interrupted, thundering, and silenced her by his sudden show of passion. He advanced upon her, so that she recoiled in some alarm, yet bridling even then. Then as suddenly he checked, curbed himself, and laughed. Forth from his pocket he lugged the heavy ducal purse, slid back the gold rings that bound it and brought the broad yellow pieces into view at its gaping mouth.
“What is the total of this score of yours?” he asked contemptuously, in the remnants of his anger. “Name it, take your money, and give me peace.”
But she was no longer thinking of her score. She was stricken with amazement at the sight of the purse he held, and the gold with which it bulged. Round-eyed she stared at it, and then at him. And then, because she could not conjecture the source of this sudden wealth, she must assume the worst, with the readiness to which such minds as hers are prone. The suspicion narrowed her blue eyes; it settled into conviction, and fetched an unpleasant curl to the lips of her broad mouth.
“And how come you by this gold?” she asked him, sinisterly quiet.