"Oh!" he said indifferently, too indifferently. "In the safe upstairs,
are they? Then he meant giving them to you? Well, they're all right
there. Don't you take them: I mean, put him off. Look here, I've thought
of another way out of the mess I'm in, Miriam. After all, it would have
been playing it rather low down to pop the things, to play tricks with
them; they're the family diamonds, you know."
"Yes; your mother wore them," said Miriam in a low voice. "I'm glad you
don't--want them, Percy."
"That's all right," he said, with a forced laugh. "Don't you worry
yourself."
He closed the door and sank into a chair in his dressing-room. He was
shaking, as if with ague; for the little plan he had formed in the
smoking-room was now rendered of no avail.
The little plan can be stated in a few words. There is a certain
fascination in forgery; it is so beautifully easy; you have but to write
another's man's name, copying that man's handwriting, and the trick is
done. Percy had tried his hand at the game already, and they say that a
horse that once stumbles is certain to fall again. He had intended
forging an order on the bank for the delivery of the jewels: and now
they were not in the bank but here in the house. Within a few yards of
him were diamonds and other precious stones, the possession of which
would save him from ruin. The sweat broke out on his face, his lips grew
parched, and he tried to moisten them with a tongue that was almost as
dry. He knew the safe well enough, knew that even a skilled burglar
would find it difficult, if not impossible, to break into it. The
diamonds were within his reach, with only the door of that safe between
him and them. It would have been far better for his purpose, if they had
been at the bank!
Cursing his luck, the miserable man went on with his undressing.