“Yes,” she sighed. His threat to call at the villa held her appalled. She saw no way to appease this man, who was now bent upon her ruin. The present, with all its happiness, had faded from her and the future was only a grey vista of grief and despair.
“You know quite well,” he went on, “that when you tell me that you can’t get money, I don’t believe you. You surely aren’t going to stand by and see your husband starve, are you? I’ve had cursed bad luck of late. A year ago I was rich, but to-day I’m broke again—utterly broke, and, moreover, the police are looking for me. That’s why I want to get away to America—with your help.”
“But don’t I say I can’t help you?” she protested. “Ah!” she exclaimed, a second later. “You can have my brooch—here it is,” and she proceeded to take it from the breast of her white gown.
“Bah! What’s the good of that to me?” he laughed. “No. Keep it—why, it isn’t worth more than fifty pounds! You surely don’t think I’m going to let you have your affectionate letter for that sum, do you?”
“I’ve got nothing else.”
“But you have at home,” he urged. “What other jewels have you got?”
“Nothing of great value here. The Bracondale jewels are at Bracondale,” she replied slowly, after a few seconds’ deliberation. “I have nothing much here, except——”
And she drew herself up short.
“Except what?” he asked sharply.
“Nothing.”