“The Carfax gems,” he muttered, “the Carfax gems of which I have so often heard; those that the old Crusader brought from the East, having sacked them from a Sultan; from the East, where they talk of them still.  A sultan’s wealth, unless, indeed, they came straight from the New Jerusalem and were an angel’s gauds.  And do you say that you two women have carried these priceless things tacked in your cloaks, which, as I have seen, you throw down here and there and leave behind you?  Oh, fools, fools, even among women incomparable fools!  Fellow-travellers with Dr. Legh also, who would rob a baby of its bauble.”

“Fools or no,” exclaimed Emlyn tartly, “we have got them safe enough after they have run some risks, as I pray that you may keep them, Cousin Smith.”

Old Jacob threw a cloth over the gems, and slowly transferred them to his pocket.

“This is an upper floor,” he explained, “and the door is locked, yet some one might put a ladder up to the window.  Were I in the street I should know by the glitter in the light that there were precious things here.  Stay, they are not safe in my pocket even for an hour,” and going to the wall he did something to a panel in the wainscot causing it to open and reveal a space behind it where lay sundry wrapped-up parcels, among which he placed, not all, but a portion of the gems.  Then he went to other panels that opened likewise, showing more parcels, and in the holes behind these he distributed the rest of the treasure.

“There, foolish women,” he said, “since you have trusted me, I will trust you.  You have seen my big strong-boxes in my office, and doubtless thought I keep all my little wares there.  Well, so does every thief in London, for they have searched them twice and gained some store of pewter; I remember that some of it was discovered again in the King’s household.  But behind these panels all is safe, though no woman would ever have thought of a device so simple and so sure.”

For a moment Emlyn could find no answer, perhaps because of her indignation, but Cicely asked sweetly—­

“Do you ever have fires in London, Master Smith?  It seems to me that I have heard of such things, and then—­in a hurry, you know——­”

Smith thrust up his horned spectacles and looked at her in mild astonishment.

“To think,” he said, “that I should live to learn wisdom out of the mouth of babes and sucklers——­”

“Sucklings,” suggested Cicely.

“Sucklers or sucklings, it means the same thing—­women,” he replied testily; then added, with a chuckle, “Well, well, my Lady, you are right.  You have caught out Jacob at his own game.  I never thought of fire, though it is true we had one next door last year, when I ran out with my bed and forgot all about the gold and stones.  I’ll have new hiding-places made in the masonry of the cellar, where no fire would hurt.  Ah! you women would never have thought of that, who carry treasure sewn up in a nightshift.”