I have been thinking over the very kind offer you made to me a
little time ago. You can hardly understand how anybody as lonely as
myself appreciates such kindness as yours."

The Countess raised her hands as if to ward off the gratitude. They were
slim hands with many rings upon them, as Beatrice did not fail to
notice.

And on the finger of the left hand something was hanging that looked
like a wisp of silk thread.

"Excuse me," Beatrice said, "you have something attached to one of your
rings. Let me remove it for you. That is all right. It seems very
strange, but----"

Beatrice checked herself suddenly and walked rapidly across the room.
She had made what in the light of recent events was a startling
discovery. At first she had imagined that the long silken fluff was
attached to one of the rings, but this her quick eyes had proved to be a
mistake. On one of the slim fingers of the Countess was a thick smear of
wax.

Beatrice could see a little of it sticking to the palm of the hand now.
She understood what this meant. That neat little woman was by no means
the sort of person to dabble habitually in tricks of that kind, and
Beatrice suddenly recollected that wax was used for taking impressions
of locks and keys and the like. But surely there could be nothing worth
all that trouble in this room, she thought. Nor would anything of that
kind have been necessary to get possession of the jewels. Besides, if
any waxen impression of anything had been taken, Stephen Richford would
have done it. Just for a moment it occurred to Beatrice that it would be
a good idea to change her room, but she dismissed the impulse as
cowardly, and besides, the manager had advised her that he had not
another room at his disposal in the hotel.

Still, she was on her guard now, and she made up her mind to slumber
lightly to-night. After all the exciting events of the day, it was not
likely that she would sleep at all. And yet she felt very dull and
heavy; she could think of nothing to say, so that the Countess rose
presently and proclaimed the fact that she was quite ready for bed
herself.

"I am selfish," she said. "I am keeping you up, for which I should be
ashamed of myself. Good-night, my dear, and pleasant dreams to you."

The speaker flitted away with a smile and a kiss of her jewelled
fingers. Beatrice drew a long sigh of relief to find herself alone once
more.

She locked the door carefully and commenced a thorough examination