“Can you tell me its contents?”
“Not all, monsieur. I, as a young girl, was not in the full confidence of my parents. But I remember my uncle saying there were about twenty thousand francs in notes, some gold—I know not how much—some jewellery of my mother’s—oh, a big handful!—rings—one a hoop of emeralds and diamonds—a brooch with a black pearl belonging to my great-grandmother——”
“It is enough, mademoiselle,” said Smithers, jotting down notes. “Anything else besides money and jewellery?”
“There were papers of my father, share certificates, bonds—que sais-je, moi?”
Smithers opened the packet, which had already been examined.
“You’re a witness, sir, to the identification of the property.”
“No,” said Willoughby, “I’m just a baby captain of infantry, and wonder why the brainy Intelligence department doesn’t hand the girl her belongings and decently clear out.”
“I’ve got to make my report, sir,” said Smithers stiffly.
So the schedule was produced and the notes were solemnly counted, twenty-one thousand five hundred francs, and the gold four hundred francs, and the jewels were identified, and the bonds, of which Jeanne knew nothing, were checked by a list in her father’s handwriting, and Jeanne signed a paper with Smithers’s fountain-pen, and Willoughby witnessed her signature, and thus she entered into possession of her heritage.
The officers were about to depart, but Jeanne detained them.