"Well."
"You would have been implicated in this unhappy affair to your certain ruin, without benefiting me. You must leave the necklace here."
"But I won't!"
This time the pretty little foot was set firmly on the flagging.
The jailor, who had been an attentive listener to the foregoing conversation, thrust his hands into the capacious pockets of his overcoat with the bearing of a man who is completely satisfied.
"I knowed it," he said, emphatically; "the boy is misfortunate somehow, and the young girl's a trump—she is. Lord help 'em! But time's up, and I must stop their talk."
With this the man tapped on the door. Mortimer held Daisy in his arms for a moment, and then sat down on the bed.
Daisy was gone, and it seemed as if the sunlight had gone with her, the cell grew so gloomy to the prisoner.
"Young man," said the jailor, with a solemn look, "the young lady is very unprudent to go circumventing round with that necklace twisted up on the top ov her skull—she is."
Mortimer groaned.