Mary could go there alone without fear.
She was glad that Rose had given her the key of the cabinet in which her
jewel-case was kept, because she had very little money, and as it was
already five o'clock the banks would be shut. It would not be an
agreeable necessity, but she could go to the jeweller in the Galerie
Charles Trois where she had bought many of her beautiful things and,
explaining that she needed ready money, ask him to buy back a diamond
pendant or brooch.
When she had taken the jewel-case, which was in the shape of an
inconspicuous hand bag, she gave Nathalie the key of the cabinet, and
said nothing of the luggage waiting on the ground floor. She knew it
would grieve George and Rose Winter to guess that she had come expecting
to stay. Downstairs she spoke to the concierge, saying she would return
with a cab to fetch the things away. She would go, she thought, to the
railway station and inquire about trains for Ventimiglia. Then having
settled the hour of departure, she would dispose of a little jewellery
and call in a cab at the Winters' for her luggage.
The sun had set, and the early darkness of the Riviera night had fallen,
though it was only five o'clock, but the Boulevard d'Italie and the
Boulevard des Moulins were brilliantly lighted. The shops looked bright
and enticing, but Mary did not notice them as she would once have done.
She walked quickly, and at the top of the gardens was about to turn down
toward the Casino and more distant railway station when she came upon
Lord and Lady Dauntrey.
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