THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
He turned the automatic over and over in his hands, curiously. But he was a natural mechanic, and it wasn't long before he had mastered the mechanism of the gun.
"All aboard!"
"The pearls," she said, dully.
"What?" He stared at her, dumfounded. It was unbelievable. "You want them … now?"
"To return them. Oh, I couldn't live otherwise! I couldn't!"
He understood at once. She wanted a clean slate.
"But Camden stole them."
"So did I. I had no right to them. I tried a thousand times to convince myself that I had; but I really hadn't. I was just a cheat. I … I hadn't paid for them."
"How many did you have?"
"There were forty-eight in all. I unstrung them. I was going to sell one whenever I needed money."
"All right."
William crawled about on his hands and knees and eventually recovered thirty-two. The others were little white patches of dust on the threadbare carpet.
"How much were they worth?" he asked, curiously.
"Twelve thousand, at least. I priced a necklace like it, and they said it was worth that."
A doctor would have given her a serious glance; but William was at this moment unobservant. Little beads like that worth twelve thousand!
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