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close-set eyes and just a hint of an angry smile breaking the straight line of her lips. There was something secret about that smile, something that said, “Take care—I can be even with you if I like.” Behind his resentment he felt a creeping fear. What was there between them to make her look like that? What was there between them anyhow?
    He spoke before he knew what he was going to say.
    â€œWhy do you look at me like that? What’s behind all this?”
    â€œAh!” said Nesta very softly. “You’d like to know—wouldn’t you?”
    â€œYes, I should.”
    â€œI wonder whether you’ll like it as much when you do know?”
    â€œI shall know more about that when you’ve told me.”
    She nodded.
    All at once the tension was less. She said in an easy, ordinary voice,
    â€œSure you can’t remember anything, Jimmy?”
    â€œI’ve told you I can’t.”
    â€œThen why do you talk about the emeralds in your sleep?”
    It was exactly as if she had come towards him with a smile and then thrown a knife. He had seen knives thrown like that—a dago trick—he didn’t know where or when, but he’d seen it. All right—he’d teach her to throw knives at him.
    He looked at her with an effect of wooden surprise.
    â€œDo you mind saying that again?”
    She said it again, louder this time.
    â€œWhy did you talk about the emeralds in your sleep?”
    â€œWhat emeralds?”—but in his mind there was a lighted space where eight square green stones swung from a man’s hand—eight square green stones, linked two and two with pearls.
    â€œâ€˜Like a kid’s green beads—’” said Nesta with her eyes upon his face.
    A pulse hammered in his temples. Where did she get that? Someone had said that before … a voice … his voice?
    â€œYou talked in your sleep,” she said. Then she dropped her voice. “Jimmy—where are they?”
    He wrenched away from the picture of the square green stones.
    â€œWill you tell me what you are talking about?”
    â€œWill you tell me you don’t know?”
    â€œYes, I will. I haven’t an idea what you are talking about.”
    Nesta was smiling. When she smiled, she showed sharp uneven teeth, too small, too close, too pointed. Her brows still frowned, and her eyes were as cold as steel. He had never seen a woman with a sharper, colder look. And all the time she was putting out her will against his. It angered him, like being pushed in a crowd.
    â€œYou wouldn’t know an emerald if you saw one, I suppose?” Then, with a change of voice, “Jimmy, we’ve been partners all through—you simply can’t go back on me like this. Where have you put them?”
    He stuck his chin in the air.
    â€œWhat’s the good of talking like that? I don’t remember anything. You say, where have I put them—and I keep on telling you I don’t know what you’re talking about. How much farther do you think that’s going to get us?”
    â€œYou don’t know what I’m talking about?”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    Something hung in the balance. He saw her checked, hesitating, uncertain. Then with an impatient movement she came round the chair.
    â€œYou want me to tell you things?”
    â€œIf there are things I ought to know.”
    She laughed then.
    â€œWell, we might as well sit down.”
    â€œThanks—I’d rather stand.”
    â€œAnd I’d rather sit—and I’m hanged if I’ll get a crick in the neck talking up to you.”
    She dropped into one of the blue and red chairs, and rather unwillingly he took the other. Nesta threw herself back, lit a cigarette, and smoked for a minute in silence. He was determined not to speak to her. At last she said, with an edge to her voice.
    â€œIf you’re playing a game with me, you’ll be sorry for it.”
    He