Then she turned to the topic of her invalid sister, Jane Mary, who was lame and lived in lodgings near Sloane Street, and kept herself, with a little aid from Susan, by manufacturing artificial flowers. For a month past Miss Berry had referred regularly to this sister, who appeared to be the apple of her eye. I had no objection to the topic, though it did not specially interest me; but on the previous evening Miss Berry had told me, with a peculiar emphasis, that her poor dear sister often expressed a longing to see the famous Cockfosters emeralds, and that she resided quite close too. I did not like that. To-night Miss Berry made a proposition which alarmed me. “Mr. Saunders,” she said insinuatingly, “you are so good-natured that I have almost a mind to ask you a favour. Would you object to walking round with me to my sister’s--it is only a few minutes away--so that I could just give her a peep at these emeralds. She is dying to see them, and I’m sure the Marchioness wouldn’t object. We should not be a quarter of an hour away.” My discretion was aroused. I ought to have given a decided negative at once; but somehow I couldn’t, while Susan was looking at me. “But surely your sister will be in bed,” I suggested. “Oh, no!” with a sigh. “She has to work very late--very late indeed. And besides, if she is, I could take them up to her room. It would do her good to see them, and she has few pleasures.” “The Marchioness might not like it,” I said, driven back to the second line of fortification. “You know your mistress is very particular about these emeralds.” “The Marchioness need never know,” Susan Berry whispered, putting her face close up to mine. “No one need know, except just us two.” The accent which she put on those three words “just us two,” was extremely tender. I hesitated. We were already at the end of the Square, and should have turned down to the left towards Cockfosters House. “Come along,” she entreated, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Well, you know----” I muttered, but I went along with her towards Sloane Street. We passed Eaton Place. “Really, Miss Berry----” I began again, collecting my courage. Then there was a step behind us, and another hand was placed on my shoulder. I turned round sharply. It was a policeman. His buttons shone in the moonlight. “Your name is Charles Saunders,” he said to me; “and yours Susan Berry,” to my companion. “True,” I replied, for both of us. “I have a warrant for your arrest.” “Our arrest!” “Yes, on a charge of attempting to steal some emeralds, the property of the Marquis of Cockfosters.” “Impossible,” I exclaimed. “Yes,” he sneered, “that’s what they all say.” “But the emeralds are here in this bag.” “I know they are,” he said. “I’ve just copped you in time. But you’ve been suspected for days.” “The thing is ridiculous,” I said, striving to keep calm. “We are taking the emeralds back to Lady Cockfosters, and----”