looked down at the park. The leafless elms stood up like giant
feathers in the white mist of the moonbeams, and the chimney-stacks of
the house threw a deep shadow on the shining roof.

'But we felt,' said the Jew, 'that even if the judgment of the dying boy
were a true one, and this lady had committed the crime, we still had no
evidence against her, and that whoever was wicked enough to steal would
certainly deny the act, and conceal that which was stolen. Hopeless as
it seemed to wait, doing nothing, our only chance of redress would be
lost by making any inquiry which might frighten her. We sent a message
to the goldsmith in London who mends her jewels, asking him to watch for
this necklace, and so we waited. At last we heard news. An amethyst
which we do not doubt is ours came to the goldsmith to be put in a
ring; but there was no necklace with it. I came here to see if I could
do something, but I have been here for some time and can devise no plan.
If she still possess the other part, to speak would be to cause its
destruction, and how can I find out without asking if she still has by
her the thing that would prove her crime? Do not be angry with me when I
tell you this. Remember it was not I who presumed to suspect the wife of
your priest, but the English boy, who knew her well.'

'Yes,' said the curate, 'I shall remember that.' He had grown tired of
standing in the wind, and had sat down on the frosty grass below the
cross. The blast was very cold, and he crouched down to avoid it,
hugging his knees with his hands.

'You are about to be united to the family,' said the Jew; 'perhaps you
have seen the stone. Will you, for the sake of that justice which we all
hope for, try to find out for me if the other part of the amulet still
exists? I will give you a drawing of it, and if you find it as I
describe, you will know that my tale is true. Remember this--that we
have no wish to make the wrong public or punish the wrong-doer. We only
want to obtain our property.'

'Have you got a drawing of it now?'

'Yes, I have it here.'

The curate rose up and took the paper. He lit a match, and held its
tiny red flame in the shelter of the stone. The paper was soiled and
untidily folded, but the drawing was clear. It took but a glance to
satisfy him that what he had seen in his dream was but the reflection in
his own thought of the idea in the Jew's mind. He did not stop to ask
any explanation of the fact; the fact itself pr