"Oh!" he said indifferently, too indifferently. "In the safe upstairs,

are they? Then he meant giving them to you? Well, they're all right

there. Don't you take them: I mean, put him off. Look here, I've thought

of another way out of the mess I'm in, Miriam. After all, it would have

been playing it rather low down to pop the things, to play tricks with

them; they're the family diamonds, you know."

"Yes; your mother wore them," said Miriam in a low voice. "I'm glad you

don't--want them, Percy."

"That's all right," he said, with a forced laugh. "Don't you worry

yourself."

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He closed the door and sank into a chair in his dressing-room. He was

shaking, as if with ague; for the little plan he had formed in the

smoking-room was now rendered of no avail.

The little plan can be stated in a few words. There is a certain

fascination in forgery; it is so beautifully easy; you have but to write

another's man's name, copying that man's handwriting, and the trick is

done. Percy had tried his hand at the game already, and they say that a

horse that once stumbles is certain to fall again. He had intended

forging an order on the bank for the delivery of the jewels: and now

they were not in the bank but here in the house. Within a few yards of

him were diamonds and other precious stones, the possession of which

would save him from ruin. The sweat broke out on his face, his lips grew

parched, and he tried to moisten them with a tongue that was almost as

dry. He knew the safe well enough, knew that even a skilled burglar

would find it difficult, if not impossible, to break into it. The

diamonds were within his reach, with only the door of that safe between

him and them. It would have been far better for his purpose, if they had

been at the bank!

Cursing his luck, the miserable man went on with his undressing.




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