a puzzled scrutiny of Lanyard's countenance, and turned to the safe.
"But to have done what you declare you have," she argued, "you must have known the combination—since it appears you haven't broken this open."
The combination ran glibly off Lanyard's tongue. And at this, with every evidence of excitement, at length beginning to hope if not to believe, the woman set herself to open the safe. Within a minute she had succeeded, the morocco-bound jewel-case was in her hand, and a hasty examination had assured her its treasure was intact.
"But why—?" she stammered, pale with emotion—"why, monsieur, why?"
"Because I decided to leave off stealing for a livelihood."
"When did you bring these jewels here?"
"Within the week—four or five nights since—"
"And then—repented, eh?"
"I own it."
"But came here again tonight, to steal a second time what you had stolen once?"
"That's true, too."
"And I interrupted you—"
"Pardon, madame: not you, but my better self. I came to steal—I could not."
"Monsieur—you do not convince. I fail to fathom your motives, but—"
A sudden shock of heavy trampling feet in the reception-hall, accompanied by a clash of excited voices, silenced her and brought Lanyard instantly to the face-about.
Above that loud wrangle—of which neither had re-
