ings. Where is it? Come, now--no side-tracking."

She had sunk down on the chair, her fingers tightly interlocked, his
words stunning her like blows. Their full meaning she missed in her
dazed condition. All she knew was that, in some way, she must defend
herself.

"Mr. Mangan, will you please listen to me? I have not pawned it, and I
would never dream of doing such a thing. I can only think that some one
has taken it from the box--I don't know who. I came to you the moment
I discovered the loss. I thought perhaps I had wrapped it up with the
other pieces I brought you last night, or that I had dropped it in the
street on my way here. And, yet, none of these things seemed possible
when I began to think about it. I will do all I can to pay for it. You
can take its value from my work until it is all paid."

Mangan, who had been pacing the floor, hearing nothing of her
explanation--his mind intent upon his next move--dragged a chair next to
hers.

"Now, pull yourself together for a minute, Mrs. Stanton. I'm not going
to be ugly. I'm going to make this just as easy as I can for you. You've
got a lot of common sense, and you're some different from the women who
handle our stuff. I've seen that, and that's why I've trusted you. Now,
think of me a little. That mantilla don't belong to Rosenthal's. It
belongs to a big customer who lives up near the Park, and who left it
here on condition we had it mended on time. It's worth $250 if it's
worth a cent, and it's worth a lot more to me, because I lose my job if
I don't get hold of it to-day. It's a New Year's present and has got
to be sent home to-night. Now, don't that make things look a little
different to you? And now, one thing more, and I'm going to put it up to
you, just between ourselves, and nobody will get onto it--nobody around
here. If it's a matter of ten or fifteen dollars, I've got the money
right here in my clothes. And you can slip out and I'll keep close
behind, and you can go in and get it, and I'll bring it back here, and
that's all there will be to it. Now, be decent to me. I've been decent
to you ever since you come here. Ain't that so?"

Lady Barbara had now begun to understand. This man was accusing her of
lying, if not of theft, while she sat powerless before him, incapable of
speech. Once, as the horror of his suspicion rose before her, she felt a
wild impulse to cry out, even to throw herself on his mercy--telling him
her story and Martha's suspicions