nt
when her eyes fell upon them. For an instant they slackened their pace,
but the woman spoke to the man, and they came on steadily, walking as
briskly as before. The man unfastened the gate with a big key, which he
left in the lock, and the two stepped out into the road. They glanced
casually at Peter, her chauffeur, and the motor, as if they would pass
by, but on an impulse Peter leaned from the window and spoke. "Lord and
Lady Dauntrey?"

"Yes," the woman replied, stiffly. "I'm afraid I don't remember----"

"Oh, we've never met, but I knew you were both here, and I'm Mary
Maxwell, Mary Grant's best friend. I'll go in and find her and Prince
Vanno, now the gate's unlocked. I thought perhaps Mary was sending me
out her jewel-case, as I see you have it in your hand."

This was a shot in the dark. All that Peter knew of the jewel-case was
Rose Winter's description of it, when she told of Mary's arrival in her
absence, to take it away; but Lady Dauntrey's face said that the shot
had not gone wide of the mark.

"It is Miss Grant's jewel-case, certainly," she replied. "She put it in
my charge. Prince Giovanni Della Robbia has insulted me and my husband,
and we are going at once; but I'm too fond of poor Mary to leave her
property at the mercy of the only servant in the house--a horrible
woman, who would murder one for a franc. She knows about the jewels, and
as the Prince won't look after them and Mary isn't able to, I meant to
take them back to Mrs. Winter."

"How good of you! I'll save you the trouble," Peter said.

Lady Dauntrey looked at her with narrow eyes, Dauntrey standing apart
listlessly. "I don't know you," Eve objected.

"You can ask Mr. James Schuyler's chauffeur about me," Peter suggested.
"Or if you won't accept his word, wait a little while, and I'll take you
both to Monte Carlo and Mrs. Winter's house, where I'm staying."

"I really think you had better trust this lady," Dauntrey said. He
looked at his wife with his sad, tired eyes. Eve shrugged her shoulders,
and handed Peter the bag. "Well, the responsibility is off my hands,
anyhow!" she cried. "That's one comfort. And it's much more convenient
for us not to go to Monte Carlo, on other people's business. Mary
Grant's jewels are nothing to us."

"Of course not," Peter agreed, pleasantly. "I hope Mary's well?"

"Then you'll be disappointed," Eve replied, her eyes very bright. "She's
far from well. My husband, an experienced doctor, has been tre