"He surely needn't sell the whole fifteen thousand," she urged. "I've told you I can do something."
"That only means you'll have to sell, and—forgive me, Sonia—I expect your people have been hit too."
"But it isn't their money, it's mine!" she exclaimed impatiently. "And I have sold already. You say people don't carry thousands loose in their pockets, but I'm afraid I do."
Her hand dived into the bag on her wrist and produced a cheque for six thousand and a few odd pounds. I tried to decipher the signature.
"Who are Gregory and Mantell?" I asked.
"'Gregory and Maunsell,'" she corrected me.
"Of Bond Street? Have you been selling your jewellery, Sonia?"
"Just a few old things I didn't want," she answered airily.
I looked at the cheque and then at her. She was wearing neither ring nor brooch nor bracelet. Even her little gold watch was gone from her wrist.