But now she was going from
Portray to London. It seemed to her to be certain that she could dig no
hole in London that would be secret to herself. Nor could she trust
herself, during the hour or two that remained to her, to find such a hole
in Carlisle.
What she wanted was a friend; some one that she could trust. But she had
no such friend. She could not dare to give the jewels up to Lord George.
So tempted, would not any Corsair appropriate the treasure? And if, as
might be possible, she were mistaken about him and he was no Corsair, then
would he betray her to the police. She thought of all her dearest friends,
Frank Greystock, Mrs. Carbuncle, Lucinda, Miss Macnulty, even of Patience
Crabstick, but there was no friend whom she could trust. Whatever she did
she must do alone! She began to fear that the load of thought required
would be more than she could bear. One thing, however, was certain to her:
she could not now venture to tell them all that the necklace was in her
possession, and that the stolen box had been empty.
Thinking of all this, she went to sleep, still holding the packet tight
between her fingers, and in this position was awakened at about ten by a
knock at the door from her friend Mrs.
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