The answer was absurd. With his wan face, wrinkled and furrowed by deadly anxiety and fear, and marked with black streaks of smoke and fog, his bloodshot, swollen eyes, his quivering lips, and the trembling fits which from time to time seized his limbs, Sep Jocelyn had evidently something very seriously the matter with him. “You are cold,” said Deborah gently. “I am always cold.” “Have you just returned from a journey?” Sep started, and began to tremble so violently that Deborah, with her wits on the alert, began to have an inkling of the truth. “Listen, Sep,” she said in a low, earnest voice. “I know the trouble you and Rees are in. It is through that man Goodhare, I feel sure.” “Sh-sh,” interrupted Jocelyn, glancing around him fearfully. “I’ve come to get you all out of it. If you will tell me where the jewels are, I can promise you that nothing will ever be heard of the business. And if you will come back to Carstow with me, I can promise that your aunt, who misses you most dreadfully, will take you back to her arms without a word of reproach.” “Oh, no; she couldn’t now. You don’t know--I can’t tell you; but it’s too late. The next shelter I get will be a prison.” Deborah was shocked. He was altogether broken down, a mere wreck, a shivering, quaking creature, broken-nerved, bemuddled, helpless. “Lord St. Austell’s influence will keep you out of prison.” “Lord St. Austell!” Sep started violently. “Why, he’s the very last person to help us. He has no end of grudges against us, if he only knew.” “He does know, but the career of his brother Charles and the honor of his family outweigh everything with him. You see, if the loss of part of the regalia were made known, there would be a public outcry, and his brother would be disgraced. Now, Sep, what interest have I in the matter except yours and Rees Pennant’s?” “Rees’s! Yes, that is true,” he muttered. “Well, then, trust your secret to me. You were sent away with the jewels to dispose of them, were you not?” Sep admitted this with a half-involuntary nod, not looking at her. “Where?” “To Amsterdam.” “But the jewels were only stolen yesterday, and you are back already!” “I didn’t go. I lost heart. I was afraid. I fancied I was followed.” And he cast another hunted look around him. “And now I daren’t meet Goodhare. And yet--I don’t know where to go. So I sneaked back here--to wait--till I’m taken.” “No! Your instinct guided you back to be saved,” cried Deborah, in re-assuring tones. “You have the jewels with you now?” “No-o,” stammered Sep. “Oh yes, you have,” said she, confidently. “Now, trust them with me, and Goodhare need not know at present that you have not taken them to Amsterdam.” “But where shall I go?” “Go back to your aunt at Carstow, and she’ll nurse all those worried lines out of your face again.” “But I daren’t; I’m ashamed to,” objected the poor wretch.