In a twinkling I was out, too, you bet.

Mag! He hadn't opened the box at all! There it stood in the
middle of the space framed by the three glasses. I pulled at the
lid. Locked! I could have screamed with rage. But the sound of
his step outside the door sobered me. He was coming back. In a
frantic hurry I turned toward the window which I had unlocked
when I came in four hours ago. But I hadn't time to make it.
I heard the old fellow's hand on the door, and I tumbled back into
the box in such a rush that the curtains were still waving when
he came in.

Slowly he began to place the jewels, one by one, in the order her
Ladyship puts them on. We Charity girls had often watched him
from the door--he never let one of us put a foot inside. He was
method and order itself. He never changed the order in which he
lifted the glittering things out, nor the places he put them back
in. I put my hand up against the top of the box, tracing the spot
where each piece would be lying. Think, Mag, just half an inch
between me and quarter of a million!

Oh, I was sore as I lay there! And I wasn't so cock-sure either
that I'd get out of it straight. I tried the Beryl story lots of
ways on myself, but somehow, every time I fancied myself telling
it to Obermuller, it got tangled up and lay dumb and heavy inside
of me.

But at least it would be better to appear of my own will before
the old Englishman than be discovered by Lord Gray and his Lady.