Yet so pitiful was her appeal, so tragic the story she had briefly related to me, so earnest her promise never to offend again, that I confess I could not bring myself to commit her to prison.
I saw that she was but the unwilling cat's-paw of the most dangerous criminal in Europe. Therefore, I gently assisted her to rise to her feet and began to further question her.
In confidence she told me her address in Paris—a flat in the Boulevard Pereire—and then, after nearly half an hour's further conversation, I said—
"Very well, Lola. You shall leave here, and I hope to see you in Paris very shortly. I hope, too, that you will succeed in breaking away from your uncle and his associates and so have a chance to live a life of honesty."
"Ah!" she sighed, gripping my hand with heartfelt thanks, as she turned to creep from the room, and down the stairs. "Ah! If I could! If I only could. Au revoir, M'sieur. You are indeed generous. I—I owe my life to you—au revoir!"
And, then? Well, she had slipped noiselessly down the winding stair, while I had taken the pearl necklace and replaced it in the room of Mrs. Forbes Wilson.
Imagine the consternation next morning, when it was discovered that burglars had entered the place, and had got clean away with jewellery worth in all about thirty thousand pounds.
I watched the investigations made by the police, who were summoned from Dumfries by telephone.
But I remained silent, and kept the secret of little Lola Sorel to myself.
And here she was, once again—standing before me!