“About two hours after I had let down the precious little bag I chanced to be looking out into the park from my own window, and saw a man in the public footway strike three matches in order to light his pipe—the signal that my friends wanted to speak to me. In surprise I slipped out, and there found Guy, who, to my utter amazement, told me that they had not received the bag; they had been forestalled by a tall man in evening dress who had emerged from the Hall, and who chanced to be walking up and down smoking when the bag dangled in front of him! Imagine my feelings!
“Unfortunately I had not looked out, for fear of betraying myself; and as it was the exact hour appointed, I felt certain that my friend would be there. The presence of the man in evening dress, however, deterred them from emerging from the bushes, and they were compelled to remain concealed and watch my peril. The man looked up, and though the room was in darkness, he could see my white apron. Then in surprise he cut the string, and having opened the bag in the light, saw what it contained, placed it in his pocket, and re-entered the house. Guy described him, and I at once knew that it was the Honourable George, my mistress’s son. He would no doubt denounce me as a thief.
“I saw the extreme peril of the situation. I had acted clumsily in not first ascertaining that the way was clear. To fly at once was to condemn myself. I reflected for a moment, and then, resolving upon a desperate course of action, returned to the house, in spite of Bourne’s counsel to get away as quickly as possible. I went straight to her Ladyship’s room, but from the way she spoke to me saw that up to the present her son had told her nothing. This was fortunate for me. He was keeping the secret in order, no doubt, to call the police on the morrow and accuse me in their presence. I saw that the only way was to bluff him; therefore I went very carefully to work.
“Just before midnight I slipped into his sitting-room, which adjoined his bedroom, and secreted myself behind the heavy plush curtains that were drawn; then when he was asleep I took the rubies from the drawer in which he had placed them, but in doing so the lock of the drawer clicked, and he awoke. He saw me, and sprang up, openly accusing me of theft. Whereupon I faced him boldly, declaring that if he did not keep his mouth closed I would alarm the household, who would find me alone in his room at that hour. He would then be compromised in the eyes of the woman whom in two days he was about to marry. Instantly he recognised that I held the whip-hand. He endeavoured, however, to argue; but I declared that if he did not allow me to have the rubies to replace in the cupboard and maintain silence, I would arouse the household. Then he laughed, saying, ‘You’re a fool, Leucha. I’m very hard up, and you quite providentially lowered them down to me. I intend to raise money on them to-morrow.’ ‘And to accuse me!’ I said. ‘No, you don’t. I shall put them back, and we will both remain silent. Both of us have much to lose—you a wife, and I my liberty. Why should either of us risk it? Is it really worth while?’ This argument decided him. I replaced the jewels, and next day left Lady Milborne’s service.
“That was, however, one of the narrowest escapes I ever had, and it required all my courage to extricate myself, I can tell you.”
“So your plots were not always successful,” remarked the Princess, smiling and looking at her wonderingly. She was surely a girl of great resource and ingenuity.
“Not always, your Highness. One, which father had planned here a couple of months ago, and which was to be effected in Paris, has just failed in a peculiar way. The lady went to Paris, and, unknown to her husband, suddenly sold all her jewels en masse in order to pay her debts at bridge.”
“She forestalled him!”
“Exactly,” laughed the girl. “But it was a curious contretemps, was it not?”
Next day proved an eventful one to the Crown Princess, for soon after eleven o’clock, when with Leucha and Ignatia she went out of the hotel into the Strand, a man selling the Evening News held a poster before her, bearing in large capitals the words:—