“You’d better not say that too loud,” laughed John. “With your gold certificates, and that ring”--pointing at the sparkling hoop of diamonds that had been Babbie’s father’s last present to her and that she always wore--“you’d be a valuable prey for brigands.” He pointed to the shadowy length of Queen Mary’s “pleached walk” just behind them. “These European show-places swarm with adventurers. How do you know that Trevelyan isn’t one, and that he isn’t planning to drag you off to that pleached walk after dinner and rob you?”