e robbery, she had very many cares upon her
mind. The necklace was, indeed, safe under her pillow in the bed;
but when all the people were around her,--her own friends, and the
police, and they who were concerned with the inn,--she had not told
them that it was so, but had allowed them to leave her with the
belief that the diamonds had gone with the box. Even at this moment,
as she knew well, steps were being taken to discover the thieves, and
to make public the circumstances of the robbery. Already, no doubt,
the fact that her chamber had been entered in the night, and her
jewel-box withdrawn, was known to the London police officers. In such
circumstances how could she now tell the truth? But it might be that
already had the thieves been taken. In that case would not the truth
be known, even though she should not tell it? Then she thought for a
while that she would get rid of the diamonds altogether, so that no
one should know aught of them. If she could only think of a place fit
for such purpose she would so hide them that no human ingenuity could
discover them. Let the thieves say what they might, her word would,
in such case, be better than that of the thieves. She would declare
that the jewels had been in the box when the box was taken. The
thieves would swear that the box had been empty. She would appeal
to the absence of the diamonds, and the thieves,--who would be
known as thieves,--would be supposed, even by their own friends
and associates, to have disposed of the diamonds before they had
been taken. There would be a mystery in all this, and a cunning
cleverness, the idea of which had in itself a certain charm
for Lizzie Eustace. She would have all the world at a loss. Mr.
Camperdown could do nothing further to harass her; and would have
been, so far, overcome. She would be saved from the feeling of public
defeat in the affair of the necklace, which would be very dreadful
to her. Lord Fawn might probably be again at her feet. And in all
the fuss and rumour which such an affair would make in London, there
would be nothing of which she need be ashamed. She liked the idea,
and she had grown to be very sick of the necklace.

But what should she do with it? It was, at this moment, between her
fingers beneath the pillow. If she were minded,--and she thought she
was so minded,--to get rid of it altogether, the sea would be the
place. Could she make up her mind absolutely to destroy so large
a property, it would be b