"Jewels change hands often here," she said presently. "Did you notice the Monte Carlo shops, Mrs. Allonby, blazing with diamonds and opals in every shape? Half the shops seem to be jewellers, the windows massed and piled with tiaras, collars--thick dog-collars, solid with emeralds and diamonds--necklaces, rivières, negligés, set thick with them, and ropes and ropes of pearls. I never saw such a profusion of splendid and costly things. People lose at the tables, and sell their ornaments for half-price, and the jewellers sell them again for about three-quarters, glad to turn their money quickly. M. de Querouailles was showing some things he had got for a mere song for his daughter the other night in the salon--lovely things, for a few hundred francs." "A place to buy rather than to sell in, then?" "Oh, of course! But necessity is a hard master." She sighed another long sigh, unclasped the necklace, held it a moment in the best light, looked steadily, almost lovingly, at it, laid it back in the case, and put it on a little table near the hearth. Ermengarde expressed some mild wonder at her hardihood in carrying her fortune so unguardedly about, and spoke of recent repeated jewel robberies. "But I don't look rich," the woman of mystery assured her. "Nobody would suspect me of sapphires. Besides, when I travel, I wear them." "And now, dear Mrs. Allonby," she added after a pause, "I want to ask you to do me a great favour. I have sudden and urgent need for a considerable sum of money. It is a family matter of some delicacy, and there are reasons why I should appear to have no hand in it. So I wonder--I wonder if you would be so very kind as to sell my necklace for me at Poupart's?" "Good gracious! Why, I never sold anything in my life; I never even bought anything of this kind. I've no notion of the value of jewellery. The people would rook me without mercy." "Oh, that is in the bill. They would rook anybody. I should say that--this--urgent necessity is as yet not quite certain; but if it should become certain, as I fear it will, in the course of a few days, then, dearest Mrs. Allonby, will you--_will_ you do me this very great kindness?" "You have been kind--most kind to me, Miss Somers, and I should be exceedingly glad of an opportunity to do anything for you in return. But, indeed, I am not a good hand at this kind of thing; I should end in giving your necklace away very likely. I am no good, I assure you--for this." The woman of mystery looked disappointed--the sphinx mask failed her for once--but she forbore to press her point. Ermengarde's heart misgave her; still she was firm. She felt that she really was not quite such a fool as she looked, and was quite capable of taking care of herself--a somewhat unsatisfactory source of pride, after all.