while he was angrily conscious that it was quite
undeserved. "Oh thanks, Marshal," he said as he took the pendant. "I
say, Mater, no wonder the bally thing slipped down--the clasp's worn
out. Whoever you bought it from ought to have put it in proper repair
before he sold it. Pity you can't send it back and make him mend it!"

"Do I understand," inquired the Marshal of the Queen, "that your Majesty
_bought_ this pendant?"

"Certainly not," replied the Queen, flushing in her turn. "You're
mistaken, Clarence--it--it has been in the family for years!"

"You're mixing it up with something else, Mater," he said. "Don't you
remember? You wore it for the first time that evening the Baron came to
fetch us. And you told us you'd bought it out of old Uncle Wibberley's
legacy. I'm _sure_ I'm right!"

"That was a different ornament altogether," said his mother; "but it's
not worth discussing." Accordingly the subject was dropped, for the
time, at all events, though the Marshal did not forget it. His was not a
brilliant intellect--brilliant intellects being rare in Maerchenland--but
he had the faculty of putting two and two together, and inferring that
the total was more likely to be about four than any other number. The
Astrologer Royal had predicted that the Queen would be discovered in a
certain spot in England, and would be identified by being the possessor
of Prince Chrysopras's jewel. But the Marshal was now satisfied that she
was the possessor by purchase only. The original owner--if Xuriel had
read the stars correctly--was in the same locality. Was it not possible
that Lady Daphne might be that owner? If so, it would explain the
Queen's motive for placing her under arrest. Marshal Federhelm resolved
to play a bold stroke. When in the course of his office he had next to
visit his prisoner, whom he made a point of treating with all courtesy,
she begged him to tell her what fresh offence she had given that she
should have been condemned to solitary imprisonment.

"I know but this," said the Marshal, "her Majesty is displeased at
finding that a certain jewel she purchased from you is of less value
than she had been led to believe."

"But, Marshal!" protested poor Daphne, naturally imagining that the
Queen had been complaining to him of the transaction, "surely it's worth
at _least_ thirty pounds! If it isn't, I'd willingly take it back and
return the money. Only I can't--because I used it all to pay my bill.
But I always th