'Through Mr. Jagenal, the lawyer. It's a long story. A great-grandfather of mine was wrecked, and lost his property. That was eighty years ago. Now, his property was found. Who do you think found it? Armorel Rosevean. And she has restored it—to me.'
'What?' She sprang to her feet, her face suddenly turning white. 'What? Armorel?'
'Yes, certainly. Curious coincidence, isn't it? The very girl who has done me so much mischief. The man was wrecked on the island where her people lived.'
'Yes—yes—yes. The property—what was it? What was it? Quick!'
'It was a leather case filled with rubies—rubies worth at least thirty-five thousand pounds—— What's the matter?'
'Rubies! Her rubies! Oh! Armorel's rubies! No—no—no—not that! Anything—anything but that! Armorel's rubies—Armorel's rubies!'
'What is the matter, Zoe? What is it?'
She gasped. Her eyes were wild: her cheek was white. She was like one who is seized with some sudden horrible and unintelligible pain. Or she was like one who has suddenly heard the most dreadful and most terrible news possible.
'What is it, Zoe?' her husband asked again.
'You? Oh! you have brought me this news—you! I thought, perhaps, someone—Armorel—or some other might find me out. But you!—you!'