ly a
matter of formality, and I oughtn't to be silly about it, but I can't
help it. I've been on edge ever since, fretting for fear something
would come out about that case that Walter did bring me from the safe,
you remember. If that were found--as it might be, if they ask me to
produce what jewelry I have with me--well, I simply can't think what
to do."

"Why not hide the case?"

"That's just it. But where? I can't imagine. Of course I can't very
well smuggle it out of the house myself. So I thought perhaps you . . .
At any rate, I've brought it to you."

"To me?"

"Don't be alarmed. Nobody will ever suspect you of any connection
whatever with the affair. It'll be perfectly safe here, in your
keeping, until you find a way to dispose of it. To-morrow night, for
instance, as soon as it's dark, you might take it down to the shore,
put a stone in it, and throw it out into the water. Or bury it in the
sand. Anything. Nobody will pay any attention if you excuse yourself
to go to your room or out to the terrace for half an hour. But
I--well, you must see. I've hidden the case under your pillow. You may
find some better place for it--but then you haven't a maid to
hoodwink. I declare it has nearly driven me mad, these last few days,
trying to keep the thing out of Ellen's sight. She's such a nosy,
prying creature."

Mrs. Standish rose. "You will do this for me, won't you? I was sure I
could depend on you. And--let us forget our little misunderstanding.
I've forgotten it already."

She had left the room before Sally could formulate reasonable
protest--reasonable, that is, remembering her burden of obligation to
this woman.

It was an hour later before she at length settled upon satisfactory
concealment for the incriminating jewel-case--in the recess behind a
bureau-drawer, where it fitted precisely in the wrappings she did not
trouble to remove.

In the grey twilight of the dawn at last, she flung herself upon the
bed--and fell instantly asleep.

CHAPTER XI

THE THIRD DEGREE

In the sequel to that night of mischief and misadventure Sarah Manvers
had sound reason to be thankful for the resilient youth which still
animated her body. But of course she wasn't; youth will ever misprize
till it must mourn its blessings.

Yet by virtue of that inestimable attribute alone was she able to do
with only four hours' sleep (when Adele Standish, for example, needed
eight, and then was seedy) and be the first of the ho