"Oh, how good of you!" she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Indeed, it is more than kind of you, Lord Sutcombe. But--but I don't think I ought to accept them--now. They must be of very great value----" "They are," he interjected, not complacently but with a sigh; for he recalled them as they shone on the neck and arms of his dead wife. "And I feel as if they would be a great responsibility," Miriam continued. "Percy thinks of--of going abroad, of travelling for a time. Perhaps, when we come back and have settled down, you--you will be so good, so kind as to give them to me. I can't thank you enough." Her voice broke; for weak and foolish as she was, she could not but think of the still weaker and more vicious man who had planned so base a use for the Sutcombe diamonds. "Very well, my dear," he said, in a kindly voice. "We will leave them to their repose in the safe upstairs. I brought them down from the bank, intending to give them to you." "Upstairs?" she said, in something like a whisper, a frightened whisper. "Why, yes," he said, simply. "They are in the safe in the little room adjoining my bedroom. I have not seen them since my wife died," he added, with unconscious pathos. Scarcely knowing why, a vague dread, a presentiment of evil stirred within Miriam's breast. "Oh, ought they not to be sent back to the bank, Lord Sutcombe?" she said in a low voice. "Perhaps they ought," he said, gravely. "You are thinking of burglars," he added, with a smile. "You need not be apprehensive; the safe is a remarkably good one; one of the best, I believe, and I carry the key about with me always. I have it on my watch-chain. I don't think the most modern and scientific burglar could break open the safe; at any rate, he could not do so without making a noise which someone in the house would hear. Oh, they are quite secure from burglars, believe me, Miriam." "I am glad," she said, almost inaudibly. "Shall I play you something else." "Do," he responded. "Where is Percy?" "In the smoking-room, I believe," she replied. He went to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Percy is too fond of the smoking-room," he said, gravely. "Miriam, I do not wish to intrude--I have always held that no man has a right to interfere between his son and his wife. But--forgive me, Miriam--I am anxious about Percy. You, who are his wife, must have seen that--forgive me again--that he needs guidance. He is too fond of--what shall I say?--of pleasure, the sensation of the moment. I had hoped that his marriage would have wooed him from--from the self-indulgence to which he had yielded in early life. Miriam, I count a great deal upon your influence," he wound up lamely and with a deep sigh. Her head bowed still lower over the keys, and she nodded. "I know," she said. "I will do my best. But you know Percy!"