'Surely this is carrying realism a little too far?'
Mr. Haddon smiled, and replied:—
'I am amazed to hear a Frenchman objecting to realism going to its full length, and speaking for myself, I should be delighted to see the autograph of the renowned Eugène Valmont,' and with that he proffered me the pen, whereupon I scrawled my signature. The maid had already signed, and disappeared. The reputed clergyman bowed us out of the church, standing in the porch to see us walk up the avenue.
'Ed,' cried John Haddon, I'll be back within half an hour, and we'll attend to the clock. You won't mind waiting?'
'Not in the least, dear boy. God bless you both,' and the tremor in his voice seemed to me carrying realism one step further still.
The Lady Alicia, with downcast head, hurried us on until we were within the gloom of the forest, and then, ignoring me, she turned suddenly to the young man, and placed her two hands on his shoulders.
'Oh, Jack, Jack!' she cried.
He kissed her twice on the lips.
'Jack, Monsieur Valmont insists on the emeralds.'
The young man laughed. Her ladyship stood fronting him with her back towards me. Tenderly the young man unfastened something at the throat of that high-necked dress of hers, then there was a snap, and he drew out an amazing, dazzling, shimmering sheen of green, that seemed to turn the whole bleak December landscape verdant as with a touch of spring. The girl hid her rosy face against him, and over her shoulder, with a smile, he handed me the celebrated Blair emeralds.