habit.

She looked around her with an expression of terror and despair. She
listened, for she fancied she heard a footstep.

They both listened, but no other sound could be distinguished.

"A false alarm," remarked the man. Then, suddenly rising from where he
was seated, he placed his hand in his breast pocket, and, drawing out
his wallet, took therefrom the well-worn letter.

"Well," he said reluctantly, "here you are. I suppose you'd better have
it. And now you can't say but what I'm not generous--can you?"

Jean almost snatched the precious note from his fingers, glanced at it
to reassure herself that she was not being tricked, and then, striking a
match which she took from a side-table, she applied it to one corner of
the farewell letter, and held it till only a black piece of crackling
tinder remained.

"Now you are satisfied, I hope," he remarked in a harsh voice.

"Yes. Take the pearls. Take the box, and go," she urged quickly, placing
her hand upon his arm to emphasise her words, and pushing him across to
the table where stood the big morocco case.

"All right," he laughed. "Let's look at these wonderful pearls of yours.
I wonder how much they are worth?"

He halted at the table, fingering the spring-fastening of the case, and
at last raised the lid.

It was empty!

"You vixen! You infernal woman!" he cried, turning upon her, white with
anger, and with clenched fists. "You've played a slick trick on
me--you've had me--and now--by gad! I--I'll have my revenge!"

CHAPTER XXIX.

DEADLY PERIL.

Ralph Ansell made a sudden dash at his wife, gripping her by the throat
with his gloved hands.

She staggered to the table, and he bent her backwards across it. His
evil face was distorted by a look of murderous hatred, his big eyes
started from their sockets in his wild frenzy of anger.

"Where are those pearls?" he demanded. "Speak! Give them to me at once,
or, by Heaven, I'll strangle you!"

"I--I don't know," she managed to gasp. "They were in there. I--I--I
thought they were there."

"You liar! You got the letter and burned it, well knowing that the
jewels were not in the box! Where are they?" he demanded, tightening his
grip upon her throat and shaking her roughly. "Speak, woman--speak! Tell
me where they are!"

Jean struggled frantically to free herself from his murderous grip. He
was throttling her.

"I--I don't know--where--they are!" she protested, with great
difficulty.

"You do