[CHAPTER IV]
THE RED-HAIRED WOMAN
Westerham stood still gazing stupidly at the girl and holding out the jewels towards her.
When he had recovered from his great surprise he moved a step nearer to her.
“Madam,” he said, “permit me to insist that you shall take these things back.”
Without a word the girl stretched out her hand and took the jewels from him. She hid them quickly in the folds of her cloak, and all the while the expression of amaze and fear on her face did not abate.
At last she pointed to the man lying beneath the tree.
“You have not killed him?” she asked, in a low voice.
For answer, Westerham turned again and knelt at the fat man's side. He inserted his hand skilfully over the unconscious man's heart, and then rose to his feet again.
“No,” he said, almost with a laugh. “Just knocked him out; that is all. He will be all right directly, and I fancy he will be glad to walk away without assistance. I imagine he is not a character who would care for much fuss and attention at this time of the night.”
Again Westerham drew near to the girl and peered gravely and keenly, but at the same time with all deference, into her face.