" He then closed the lantern, mounted without much difficulty upon the roof, and proceeded cautiously along the tiles. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. He blushed furiously; it was not what he had expected to hear. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. "You have saved his life," replied Blueskin. She walked straight across to the wardrobe and opened it. ‘That way.
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