“Maybe not,” I said.  “And anyhow, there’s the necklace.  That’s something.”

“Yes, that’s something.”

“Will Godensky be in the audience, too?” I asked.

“I’m sure he will.  He couldn’t keep away.  But he may be late.  He won’t come until he’s had a long talk with the Commissary of Police, and tried to thrash matters out.”

“If only your theory’s right, then,—­if he hasn’t dared yet to throw suspicion on du Laurier, and if the loss of that letter-case with its contents is as much of a mystery to him as it is to us, we have a little time before us still:  we’re comparatively safe for a few hours.”

“We’re as safe,” answered Maxine, with a kind of desperate calmness, “as if we were in a house with gunpowder stored underneath, and a train laid to fire it.  But”—­she broke off bitterly, “why do I say ‘we’.  To you all this can be no more than a regret, a worry.”

“You know that’s not just!” I reproached her.  “I’m in this with you now, heart and soul.  I spoke no more than the truth when I said I’d give my life, if necessary, to redeem my failure.  Already I’ve given something, but—­”

“What have you given?” she caught me up quickly.

“My hope of happiness with a girl I love as you love du Laurier,” I answered; then regretted my words and would have taken them back if I could, for she had a heavy enough burden to bear already, without helping me bear mine.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Don’t think of it.  You can do nothing; and I don’t grudge the sacrifice—­or anything,” I hurried on.

“Yet I will think of it, if I ever have time to think of anything beyond this tangle.  But now, it must be au revoir.  Save me, save Raoul, if you can, Ivor.  What you can do, I don’t know.  I’m groping in darkness.  Yet you’re my one hope.  For pity’s sake, come to my house when the play’s over, to tell me what you’ve done, if you’ve been able to do anything.  Be there at twelve.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.  I shall live for that moment.  Now, give me the diamonds, and I’ll go.  I don’t want you to be seen with me outside this room.”

I gave her the necklace, and she was at the door before I could open it.

CHAPTER VII

IVOR IS LATE FOR AN APPOINTMENT

I was glad to be alone, for as I had said, I wanted to think quietly.

Maxine had taken the diamonds, but she had slipped the necklace into the bosom of her dress, pressing it down through the rather low-cut opening at the throat, and had therefore left the leather case.  I picked the thing up from the table where she had thrown it, and examined it carefully for the first time.

It had not been originally intended as a jewel-case, that was clear; and as Maxine’s voice had rung unmistakably true when she denied all previous knowledge of it to the police, I judged that the diamonds had not been in it when the Duchess entrusted them to du Laurier.  He would almost certainly have described to Maxine the box or case which had been stolen from him, and if the thing pulled out from the sofa-hiding-place had recalled his description, she must have betrayed some emotion under the keen eyes of the Commissary of Police.