Mr. Jelnik said gently: "Had you been other than you are, I would
not have dared call you to my aid to-night. But when I discovered
the real thief--and she Jessamine Hynds--I could not bear that any
other eyes than yours should see her as she is. And--I want you to
be with me when I find the jewels."
The jewels? I blinked at him. Immersed in the tragedy of the woman
Jessamine, her piteous fate had put all thought of everything save
herself out of my mind.
"Shooba hid them, between a night and a morning. Shooba brought her
here, between a night and a morning. Where should the jewels be but
here?"
At his words the grim and mocking ghost of that terrible old
African, who had been whipped for falling into trances, and who had
so tragically revenged himself and his slighted mistress, seemed to
rise behind all that remained of her.
"Yes, he would put them where she could keep watch over them. Why
should she come here, make her way through those dreadful passages,
save for that? Think of her stealing out of her room in the dead of
night, coming alive to what she knew was her tomb, shutting that
door upon herself--" I looked at the tarnished cup, and hoped that
the witch doctor's potion had given her a speedy sleep.
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