Roy looked surprised. His talk of a detective had been mostly talk, and he told Inez so, assuring her that nothing should ever be done which could hurt Fanny, or compromise her father or Tom. She knew he understood her and that she was giving away those whom she loved better than her life, but she was giving them to Roy, who loved Fanny. “Thanks,” she said faintly. “You will keep what I have said to yourself, and never let Fanny, nor any one, know. I can trust you?” “To the death,” he answered, taking her shaking hand, which was as cold as if the shadow stealing into the room had touched that first and turned it into ice. “I knew Tom was a rascal all the time, and Mr. Hilton, too, but my word is pledged and I shall keep it. Think of Fanny here in a den of robbers. It can’t be long, though. The poor girl is about done for,” Roy thought, as he tried to soothe and quiet Inez. “Go now, and send Tom,” she said at last, and, glad to escape, Roy went quickly down the stairs and delivered the message to Tom. It was the first time she had asked for him, and he felt much as a criminal feels when going to execution. He had no idea what she wanted and was rather relieved when she said to him, “Do you love me still?” “More than I can tell you. Oh, Inez, I am so sorry for it all, and have nothing to offer in excuse,” he replied, bending over her until his face touched the hand which was still moving very slowly, and whose fingers stirred his hair as they moved. “Don’t try to excuse, or explain,” she said. “Bury the past in my grave, and begin a new life. Make restitution as far as possible. Give Fanny her diamonds!” Tom started violently. “How did you know she lost them?” he asked, and Inez replied, “I do know, and it has put out the little flickering flame there was left of my life. Get them to her somehow.” “I have intended to do this all the time, and I assure you she shall have them,” Tom said. “And the others,” she continued; “If you know who they are and where they are, send them what belongs to them, or its equivalent. You and father, both; I cannot talk to him. I leave it with you.” She was asking impossibilities and Tom knew it, but he promised that so far as he could he would do all she wished. “Tom,” she whispered, after a moment’s silence, “Come closer; it is hard for me to talk; the lump in my throat chokes me so.” Tom bent closer to her, while she went on: “I have loved you so much and thought you so good and never suspected the truth. Tom, oh, Tom, kiss me for the sake of what we have been to each other, and when I am gone, be the good man I used to think you were. Stay with father and take care of him. He needs you. Good bye. Go now. I am so tired.”