It did look bad; the more we talked of it the worse it looked. We didn’t sleep all night, and when the dawn was coming through the blinds we were still talking, trying to decide what to do. At breakfast we sat like two graven images, not eating a thing, and all that day in the office I found it impossible to concentrate my mind, but sat thinking of what on earth we’d do with those darned diamonds. I’d suggested, the first thing, to go and give them up at the nearest police station. But Daisy wouldn’t hear of that. She said that no one would believe a word of our story--it was too impossible. And when I came to think of it I must say I agreed with her. I saw myself telling that story in a court of justice, and I realized that a look of conscious guilt would be painted on my face the whole time. I’d have felt, whether it was true or not, that nobody really ought to believe it, and as an honest, self-respecting citizen I ought not to expect them to. Here we were, strangers that nobody knew a thing about, anyway! Daisy said they’d take us for accomplices; and when I said to her we’d be a pretty rank pair of accomplices to give up the swag without a struggle, she said they’d think we got scared, and decided to do what she calls “turn State’s evidence.” She thought the best thing to do was to keep the stones till we could think up a more plausible story. We tried to do that, and the night after our meeting with Major and Mrs. Thatcher we stayed awake till three, thinking up “plausible stories.” We got a great collection of them, but it seemed impossible to get a good one without implicating somebody. I invented a corker, but it cast a dark suspicion on Daisy; and she had an even better one, but it would have undoubtedly resulted in the arrest of Perkins and the housemaid, and possibly myself. It was a horrible situation. Even if we could possibly have escaped suspicion ourselves, it would have ruined us socially and financially. Would the Colonial Box, Tub, and Cordage Company have retained as the head of its London branch a man who had got himself mixed up with a sensational diamond robbery? Not on your life! That concern demands a high standard and unspotted record in all its employees. I’d have got the sack at the end of the month. And Daisy! How would the bishop and two lords have felt about it? Had no more use for that little woman, you can bet your bottom dollar! Even Lady Sara Gyves, who, they say, will go anywhere to get a dinner, would have given her the Ice-house Laugh. _I_ know them. And I saw my Daisy sitting at home all alone on her reception day, and taking dinner with me every night. No, sir! That wouldn’t happen if Cassius P. Kennedy had to take those diamonds to the Thames and throw them off London Bridge in a weighted bag.