The man chuckled thickly.
"But they are very pretty baubles," he went on, "and since you offer them to me, I see no reason why I should not keep them."
"Ah!" cried the girl. "Then Boris will be satisfied?"
"Satisfied!" exclaimed the man, "satisfied, for this much! Not he! Why, it's ridiculous."
"Then give them back to me," said the girl, quietly, with a quaver in her voice. "Give them back to me. Would you rob me?"
"I am not robbing you," answered the man, sullenly. "I am taking what you offered me. I shall not give them back. It is impossible for you to make me. You would cry out, would you? What good would that do? Cry out, call for help—do what you like—but think first what will it mean for you. Give them back? Not I! I—"
But his speech ended suddenly at this point, for Paul, always quick to action, took quick action now.
Moving round the trunk of the tree, he caught the man deftly by the collar of his coat, kicked his heels from under him, and brought him with a heavy crash to the ground.
The man lay still.
In a second Paul was on his knees beside the prostrate figure. With swift fingers he searched the man's clothing and found a mass of jewels in the breast-pocket of his outer coat.