"Trant he got plenty money; he go big steamer to America; he quite safe, and Trant he no like Mr. Blake; he want to be revenged."
Elsie, remembering Blake's assurance, again told him that there was no fear.
But she herself had a qualm of terror. Fate was always like that—fate would step in and spoil everything, now that they were going to be happy. She had read Blake's letter. She was happy. It was a very long letter, to be read and re-read; it told her of his plans for a new life, and the burden of it was this: "Be it as you will, love. I am yours and you are mine."
She wrote a few lines on a leaf torn from her pocket-book, and bade Jack Nutty ride back with it to his master. It was a wild entreaty to him to hasten and wind up everything, to sell Baròlin, resign his appointment, and go and make a home where she could join him as soon as might be. She told him that she would write further by post, that he must come and see her, and that then they would settle everything.
When she got back to the Humpey she found Lord and Lady Waveryng surrounded with letters and newspapers. Braile the postman had arrived, and it was English mail day.
Lord Waveryng looked excited. "They've got a clue to the diamonds," he said; "a fellow in Sydney has been disposing of the cross. What fools they were to risk that piece, which could be identified anywhere! However, I hope it means that we shall get the lot, or part anyhow, back again."
Elsie's heart stopped beating. "Is anything known," she asked, "of the person who first sold the cross?"
"It seems not," said Lord Waveryng; "there the thread breaks. But it's something to have got the clue as far as it goes. One can only hope that the New South Wales police department may prove itself a little more effectual than that which is presided over by our friend the Colonial Secretary here. I understand that Blake is at Baròlin, and I think
