ther edifice in England with so many creaking
boards. They shrieked beneath me at every step. At the top of the
stairs I put down the luggage and listened carefully. As yet there
were no lights burning, and it was more than dusk in the hall below. I
wiped the sweat off my forehead, and began the descent. At the bottom
I ran into the footman. He was very nice about it, though I am certain
the dressing-case bruised his shin. Then:

"Excuse me, sir," he said, and switched on the light.

And with the light came the brain-wave.

"I want the car at once," I said. "There's been some terrible mistake.
This isn't our luggage. I don't know whose it is. The label on this
bag says 'Whinnerley Hall', and that's not my dressing-case. I'm not
even sure that this is her ladyship's parasol."

"Not--not yours, sir?"

"Certainly not. Beastly things." I flung them down in the hall.

"Never seen them before in my life. Order the car, man; order the car.
I want to take them back to the station and find out what's become of
our own."

The footman fled. When the housekeeper appeared, breathless, I was
sitting on a table, swinging the parasol and smoking angrily.

"Is the car coming?" I demanded.

"Yes, indeed, sir. It'll be round in a moment. What a dreadful thing
to have happened, sir. I can't understand--"

"Neither can I, except that they're both something like our things.
But look at that label. This isn't Whinnerley Hall, is it?"

"No, indeed, sir."

"Well, have them put in the car. I'll go and find her ladyship. I'm
afraid she'll be terribly upset."

I flung out of the house. Thirty seconds later I was explaining things
to an open-mouthed girl in the arbour. As I finished, I heard the car
coming round from the garage.

"Come along, dear." I glanced at my watch. "With any luck we shall
just catch the seven-ten on to Whinnerley. Remember, you're terribly
upset and simply frantic about your jewellery, especially the tiara
Uncle George gave you. Do you think you could cry? I should have to
kiss you then."

Again the faint smile. The next minute we were in the car, rushing
down the avenue. There was the white banner, hanging very still now,
for the faint breeze had died with the day. As we approached the lodge
gates I leaned forward and looked across her--she was on my
right--looked away over the park to where the sun had set. The sky was
flaming.

"Sic transit," said I.

"Good-bye, backw