They exchanged a few words quickly, in a language Ralph did not understand; and the man went. Then she turned to Ralph and said in a bitter voice: “And now?” “Now?” “Yes. What do you intend to do?” “My intentions are perfectly honorable--angelic in fact----” “Enough of this fooling! What do you mean to do? How do you propose to act?” she said sharply. Of a sudden serious, he said: “I promise to act very differently from you who are always full of suspicion. I shall be what you have never been, a loyal friend who would blush to injure you.” “That is to say?” “That is to say I’m going to put the indispensable questions to Bridget Rousselin, and to put them so that you can hear her answers. Does that suit you?” “Yes,” she said, but in a tone that showed that she was still irritated. “In that case, stay here. It won’t take long. There’s no time to lose.” “No time to lose?” “No. Listen and you’ll understand. Don’t stir.” Thereupon, leaving open the two doors of communication so that every word could be heard clearly, he went to the bed on which Bridget was lying. The young actress smiled at him. In spite of her fear and of the fact that she had not caught a sound of what had been going on, she had at the sight of her deliverer a sense of security and confidence very comforting. “I shan’t tire you,” he said. “I want to ask you a few questions. Are you in condition to answer them?” “Certainly.” “Ah well, you have been the victim of a madman of sorts whom the police have been watching and whom they’re going to shut up. So there is no longer any danger. But I want you to clear up a point if you can.” “What is it?” “What is this bandeau set with jewels? Who did you get it from?” he said. He perceived that she hesitated. However she said: “They are stones I found in an old casket.” “A wooden casket?” he asked quickly. “Yes--all smashed and not even locked. It was hidden under a heap of straw in a loft in the little house in the country my mother lived in.” “Where?” “At Lillebonne, between Rouen and le Havre.” “I know. And where did the casket come from?” he asked. “I don’t know. I never asked my mother.” “You found the stones in the box just as they are now?” “No. They were set in large silver rings,” she said. “And those rings?” “I had them last night in my make-up box at the theater; and a gentleman who came behind to compliment me on my acting caught sight of them and took a fancy to them.” “Was he alone?” “No. He had two friends with him. It seems he is a collector; and I let him have the rings then and there and promised to take the stones to him to-day at three o’clock that he might restore them to their original settings. He is going to give me a good price for them.” “Have these rings inscriptions on the inside?” he asked. “Yes: words in old-fashioned writing. But I never bothered about them.”