end them with ever-growing anxiety into a new
channel. Where was Nick? What was happening to him? What could be
delaying him?

She had no partner to take her in to supper, refusing each one that
offered with the repeated declaration that she must wait for Nick. But
Nick came not, and momentarily her uneasiness increased.

Sir Reginald came to her at last, his kindly face full of sympathy.
"There is probably no occasion for alarm, my dear," he said. "Come, give
me the pleasure of your company at supper!"

She had to yield, for he would take no refusal; but she could eat
nothing notwithstanding his utmost solicitude. She was in a state of
mind to start at every sudden sound, and the food he put before her
remained untasted on her plate.

Sir Reginald watched over her with fatherly concern, but he could do
nothing to alleviate her anxiety. In his own private soul he shared it
to a considerable degree.

As they left the supper-room together, she turned to him piteously.
"Oh, do you think I might go back and see if he has returned? Really, I
can't--I can't dance any more!"

"Wait a little longer!" he counselled. "You needn't dance of course.
Stay quietly with me! He may walk in at any moment."

She longed to go, but could not refuse a suggestion so kindly proffered.
She stayed with him therefore, glad of his protecting presence, refusing
to dance any more on the plea of fatigue.

The whirling scene wearied her unspeakably. She found herself watching
Noel, who was frankly flirting with every woman in the room. It was
doubtless a safe pastime, but behind her gnawing anxiety a little spark
of resentment kindled and burned. How hopelessly fickle he was!

Hunt-Goring had apparently removed himself from the gay company
altogether, for she saw him not at all. His absence was the only
palliating circumstance in that hour of sick suspense.

It was growing late and the remaining dances were few, when a native
orderly entered the room and stepped up to Colonel Bradlaw, who was
standing with Sir Reginald. He murmured a few low words to which the
Colonel listened with a frown. It was his habit to frown always at the
unexpected.

He turned after a moment to Sir Reginald. "There's a messenger arrived
from the Palace with a box of sweets or something. What?" breaking off
ferociously as the orderly's lips moved soundlessly.

"Moonstones, _sahib_," murmured the orderly with deference.

"Moonstones," repeated the Colonel, in a