un out of ice."

Our host protested--not very heartily--and was overruled. Mutual regret
was suitably expressed. Without more ado we descended into the hall.
Here at the front door the decencies of leave-taking were observed. The
host and hostesses were thanked, the parting guests sped. A moment
later, we were sliding down the avenue to the lodge-gates. As we swung
on to the road--

"Where's the book?" said Daphne. "That man's a liar."

"At Cholmondeley Street," said I. "But you're right about Vandy. He's
trying to keep something back."

"He's so excited he doesn't know what to do," said Daphne. "That's
clear."

"Well, what the deuce is it?" said Berry. "I've read the blinkin' book,
but I'll swear there's nothing in it about buried treasure."

"Whatever it is," said I, "it's in that book. I'll get it to-morrow.
D'you really want any ice?"

Daphne shook her head.

"But I couldn't stay there with that man another minute."

Adele lifted up her sweet voice.

"I feel very guilty," she said. "I've upset you all, I've given
everything away to your cousin with both hands, and I've----"

"Nonsense, darling," said Daphne. "You did the natural thing. How could
you know----"

Jonah interrupted her with a laugh.

"One thing's certain," he said. "I'll bet old Vandy's cursing the day he
rushed into print."

* * * * *

Upon reflection it seemed idle for any one of us to journey to London
and back merely to fetch a volume, so the next morning one of the
servants was dispatched instead, armed with a note to the housekeeper at
Cholmondeley Street, telling her exactly where the book would be found.

The man returned as we were finishing dinner, and _The History of the
Pleydell Family_ was brought to Berry while we sat at dessert.

Nuts and wine went by the board.

As my brother-in-law cut the string, we left our places and crowded
about him....

Reference to the index bade us turn to page fifty-four.

As the leaves flicked, we waited breathlessly. Then--

"Here we are," said Berry. "'WILLIAM PLEYDELL. In 1652 Nicholas died, to
be succeeded by his only child, William, of whom little is known. This
is perhaps as well, for such information as is to hand, regarding his
life and habits, shows him to have been addicted to no ordinarily evil
ways. The lustre which his father and grandfather had added to the
family name William seems to have spared no effort to tarnish. When
profligacy was