I held my breath.
Her suggestion appalled me. I was to commit a second theft as the price of the first! The pretty wife of the great Sheffield ironmaster was a thief herself at heart! Truly, the situation was a strange and bewildering one.
I protested, and pointed out the risk and difficulties, but she met all my arguments with remarkable cleverness.
“I know Madame,” she said. “I will make your path smooth for you, and I myself will spirit the jewel out of France so that no possible suspicion can attach to you,” was her reply. “Will you leave it all to me?”
We walked on down the well-lit boulevard, my brain a-whirl, until at last, pressed hard by her, I consented to act as she directed.
I found, in the course of the next three days, that Lady Lydbrook’s whole life was centered upon the possession of jewels of great value, and I was amazed to discover how very cleverly she plotted the coup which I was to carry out.
One evening, after dinner, she introduced me casually to the rich widow, an ugly overdressed old woman who was wearing as a pendant the famous Dent du Chat. It was, to say the least, a wonderful gem. But I passed as a person of no importance.
Next night with Lady Lydbrook’s help I was, however, able to get into the old woman’s bedroom and carry out my contract for the preservation of silence concerning the affair at Eastbourne.
I shall always recollect the moment when I slipped the pendant into Lady Lydbrook’s soft hand as she stood in déshabille at the half-opened door of her bedroom and her quick whispered words:
“I shall be away by the first train. Stay here to-morrow and cross to London the next day. Au revoir! Let us meet again soon!” And she gripped my hand warmly in hers and closed her door noiselessly.