Crabstick had been emboldened by success. The iron box had no doubt
been taken by her assistance, and her familiarity with the thieves,
then established, had led to the second robbery. Lizzie's loss in
that second robbery had amounted to some hundred pounds. This was
Frank Greystock's theory, and of course it was one very comfortable
to Lizzie.

"They all seem to think that the diamonds are at Paris," he said to
her one day.

"If you only knew how little I care about them. It seems as though I
had almost forgotten them in these after troubles."

"Mr. Camperdown cares about them. I'm told he says that he can make
you pay for them out of your jointure."

"That would be very terrible, of course," said Lizzie, to whose mind
there was something consolatory in the idea that the whole affair of
the robbery might perhaps remain so mysterious as to remove her from
the danger of other punishment than this.

"I feel sure that he couldn't do it," said Frank, "and I don't think
he'll try it. John Eustace would not let him. It would be
persecution."

"Mr. Camperdown has always chosen to persecute me," said Lizzie.

"I can understand that he shouldn't like the loss of the diamonds. I
don't think, Lizzie, you ever realised their true value."

"I suppose not. After all, a necklace is only a necklace. I cared
nothing for it,--except that I could not bear the idea that that
man should dictate to me. I would have given it up at once, at the
slightest word from you." He did not care to remind her then, as
she lay in bed, that he had been very urgent in his advice to her
to abandon the diamonds,--and not the less urgent because he had
thought that the demand for them was unjust. "I told you often," she
continued, "that I was tempted to throw them among the waves. It was
true;--quite true. I offered to give them to you, and should have
been delighted to have been relieved from them."

"That was, of course, simply impossible."

"I know it was;--impossible on your part; but I would have been
delighted. Of what use were they to me? I wore them twice because
that man,"--meaning Lord Fawn,--"disputed my right to them. Before
that I never even looked at them. Do you think I had pleasure in
wearing them, or pleasure in looking at them? Never. They were only a
trouble to me. It was a point of honour with me to keep them, because
I was attacked. But I am glad they are gone,--thoroughly glad." This
was all very well, and was not without