‘Pooh!’ said Mr Sterndale to himself, as he wiped the dew off his pale face, ‘I’ve been alarming myself for nothing! It’s another lover the jade will be looking after, and not a watery grave! People in their right mind don’t commit suicide, and she was as sane as I am. She has most probably sought shelter with Mr Jack Portland or some other of the earl’s swell friends. I know she was universally admired, and there will be a rush to the bidding as soon as it becomes known that she’s put up for sale. However, these pretty things had better be put under lock and key till his lordship sends word how they are to be disposed of.’ With that he came to the trinket-case which Nell had locked, and the key of which she had thrown out of the window. ‘Holloa!’ he thought, ‘what is this? Another workbox? No. I fancy it is the sort of article women keep their rings in. He gave her some beauties; but I don’t suppose she has been such a fool as to leave them behind her.’ He tried every key on a bunch he had found on the dressing-table, but none would fit; so, after a few attempts with another bunch from his own pocket, he took out his penknife and prised the lock open. The first thing he saw, laid on the top of the rings, brooches and bracelets, was Nell’s pathetic message to her lover. ‘Good-bye, my only love--I cannot live without you!’ Mr Sterndale read it, and shivered like an aspen leaf. Had Nell’s ghost stood by his side, he could not have been more alarmed and nervous. ‘Good-bye, my only love--I cannot live without you!’ he muttered to himself, while he trembled anew and glanced fearfully over his shoulder.