said Jeffrey to
himself. "She didn't have it. Who did have it?"

He let it lie on the table before him and gazed at the bauble in a
strong distaste. Here it was again, a nothingness coming between him and
his vision of the real things of the earth. It seemed singularly trivial
to him, and yet powerful, too, because he knew how it had moved men's
minds.

"Where did you get it?" he asked, looking up at Lydia.

Something inside her throat had swollen. She swallowed over it with
difficulty before she spoke. But she did speak.

"I took it."

"Took it?"

He got up, and, with a belated courtesy, pulled forward a chair. But
Lydia did not see it. Her eyes were fixed on his face, as if in its
changes would lie her destiny.

"You mean you found it."

"No. I didn't find it. I took it."

"You must have found it first."

"I looked for it," said Lydia.

"Where?"

"In Esther's bag."

Jeffrey stood staring at her, and Lydia unwinkingly stared at him. She
was conscious of but one desire: that he would not scowl so. And yet she
knew it was the effort of attention and no hostile sign. He spoke now,
and gently because he saw how great a strain she was under.

"You'll have to tell me about it, Lydia. Where was the bag?"

"It was on her bed," said Lydia. "I went into the room and saw it there.
Madame Beattie told me she was going to New York--"

"That Madame Beattie was?"

"No. Esther. To hide the necklace. So Madame Beattie shouldn't get it.
And I saw the bag. And I knew the necklace must be in it. So I took it."

By this time her hands were shaking and her lips chattered piteously.
Jeffrey was wholly perplexed, but bitterly sorry for her.

"What made you bring it here, dear?" said he.

Lydia caught at the endearing word, and something like a spasm moved her
face.

"I had to," said she. "It has made all the trouble."

"But I don't want it," said Jeffrey. "Whatever trouble it made is over
and done with. However this came into Esther's hands--"

"Oh, I know how that was," said Lydia. "She stole it. Madame Beattie
says so."

"And whatever she is going to do with it now--that isn't a matter for me
to meddle with."

"Don't you care?" said Lydia, in a passionate outcry. "Now you've got it
in your hand, don't you care?"

"Why," said Jeff, "what could I do with it?"

"If you know it's Madame Beattie's, you can take it to her and tell her
she can go back to Europe and stop hounding you for money."

"How do you k