hile his little white horse stood tranquilly among passing motors. She
asked him to call later at the Villa Mirasole for her other luggage,
which she had already packed and labelled, and take it to the cloak-room
at Monte Carlo railway station, where it could be called for. Then she
paid him generously for everything, and won the man's heart by saying
goodbye to his miniature dog, Pomponette.

Mary had no doubt that the Winters would take her in for the night; and
it was a blow to be told by Nathalie that Monsieur and Madame had gone
to Nice to bring back the aunt of Monsieur who had fallen ill at a
hotel. They would return by the train arriving at seven. Would
Mademoiselle wait or look in again?

Mary hesitated, not knowing how to rearrange her plans. It was evident,
as the dreaded aunt had come down upon them after all, that the Winters
could not keep another guest even for a night, unless they made a bed in
the drawing-room, or the chaplain went out and gave up his share of
Rose's room. But Mary did not think for an instant of putting her
friends to this inconvenience.

"No, thank you," she said, recovering from the first shock of
disappointment. "Tell Madame I regret very much not seeing her, but I
called to get my jewel-case which she kindly kept for me. And--say that
I will write."

Already Mary had made up her mind that she must go at once to the
Chateau Lontana. She knew that Hannaford had put in a caretaker when he
bought the place--a woman he had described as an interesting creature
"discovered" in some odd way. What the way was, or precisely what
Hannaford had said of the woman, Mary had forgotten; for she had often
listened absent-mindedly to Hannaford's talk of his beloved villa and
all concerning it; but the great thing was the certainty that a woman
lived in the house. Mary could go there alone without fear.

She was glad that Rose had given her the key of the cabinet in which her
jewel-case was kept, because she had very little money, and as it was
already five o'clock the banks would be shut. It would not be an
agreeable necessity, but she could go to the jeweller in the Galerie
Charles Trois where she had bought many of her beautiful things and,
explaining that she needed ready money, ask him to buy back a diamond
pendant or brooch.

When she had taken the jewel-case, which was in the shape of an
inconspicuous hand bag, she gave Nathalie the key of the cabinet, and
said nothing of the luggage wa