“I cannot accept their return without giving you some reward, Mr Redmayne. I am, unfortunately, without very much money, but I desire you to accept these—if they are really worth your acceptance,” and taking from the bag a magnificent pair of diamond earrings she gave them into his hand. “You, no doubt, can turn them into money,” she added.
The old fellow, usually so cool and imperturbable, became at once confused.
“Really, Princess,” he declared, “we could not think of accepting these. You, perhaps, do not realise that they are worth at least seven hundred pounds.”
“No; I have no idea of their value. I only command you to accept them as a slight acknowledgment of my heartfelt gratitude.”
“But—”
“There are no buts. Place them in your pocket, and say nothing further.”
A silence again fell between them, while the cab rolled along the asphalte of the boulevard.
Suddenly Bourne said,—
“Princess, you cannot know what a weight of anxiety your generous gift has lifted off our minds. Roddy will not tell you, but it is right that you should know. The fact is that at this moment we are all three almost penniless—without the means of escape from Paris. The money we shall get for those diamonds will enable us to get away from here in safety.”
She turned and peered into his face, lit by the uncertain light of the street lamps. In his countenance she saw a deep, earnest look.