lly did rather suggest the world's
governess.

"My dear fellow--yes, they were, to the tune of about fifty thousand
pounds."

"What a dreadful business! Did she get them back?"

"No. She never even tried to. But, of course, it came out eventually."

"It seems to me that everything anyone wishes to hide does come out
eventually in London," said Craven, with perhaps rather youthful
cynicism. "But surely Lady Sellingworth must have wanted to get her
jewels back. What can have induced her to be silent about such a loss?"

"It's a mystery. I have wondered why--often," said Braybrooke, gently
stroking his beard.

He even slightly wrinkled his forehead, until he remembered that such
an indulgence is apt to lead to permanent lines, whereupon he abruptly
became as smooth as a baby, and added:

"She must have had a tremendous reason. But I'm not aware that anyone
knows what it is unless--" he paused meditatively. "I have sometimes
suspected that perhaps Seymour Portman--"

"Sir Seymour, the general?"

"Yes. He knows her better than anyone else does. He cared for her when
she was a girl, through both her marriages, and cares for her just as
much still, I believe."

"How were her jewels stolen?" Craven asked.

Braybrooke had roused his interest. A woman who lost jewels worth fifty
thousand pounds, and made no effort to get them back, must surely be an
extraordinary creature.

"They were stolen in Paris at the Gare du Nord out of a first-class
compartment reserved for Adela Sellingworth. That much came out through
her maid."

"And nothing was done?"

"I believe not. Adela Sellingworth is said to have behaved most
fatalistically when the story came out. She said the jewels were
gone long ago, and there was an end of it, and that she couldn't be
bothered."

"Bothered!--about such a loss?"

"And, what's more, she got rid of the maid."

"Very odd!"

"It was. Very odd! Her abdication also was very odd and abrupt. She
changed her way of living, gave up society, let her hair go white,
allowed her face to do whatever it chose, and, in fact, became very much
what she is now--the most charming _old_ woman in London."

"Oh, is she charming?"

"Is she charming!"

Braybrooke raised his thick eyebrows and looked really pitiful.

"I will see if I can take you there one day," he continued, after
a rebuking pause. "But don't count on it. She doesn't see very many
people. Still, I think she might like you. You have tast