ain discretion, Jane was sworn to it. Motion seconded and carried:
the meeting adjourned _sine die_; the several parties thereto separated
and went to their respective quarters.

Staff accompanied Alison as far as her stateroom, but didn't tarry long
over his second good-nights. The young woman seemed excusably tired and
nervous and anxious to be alone--in no mood to discuss this overwhelming
event. So Staff spared her.

In his own stateroom he found Mr. Iff half-undressed, sitting on the
transom and chuckling noiselessly, apparently in such a transport of
amusement that he didn't care whether he ever got to bed or not. Upon
the entrance of his roommate, however, he dried his eyes and made an
effort to contain himself.

"You seem to think this business funny," suggested Staff, not at all
approvingly.

"I do," laughed the little man--"I do, indeed. It's a grand young
joke--clutch it from me, my friend."

"In what respect, particularly, do you find it so vastly entertaining?"

"Oh ... isn't that ass Manvers enough?"

Further than this, Mr. Iff declined to be interviewed. He clambered
briskly into his berth and chuckled himself to sleep. Staff considered
his behaviour highly annoying.

But it was on the following day--the last of the voyage--that he found
reason to consider the affair astonishing because of the lack of
interest displayed by those personally involved. He made no doubt but
that the captain was keeping his word to the extent of conducting a
secret investigation, though no signs of any such proceeding appeared on
the surface of the ship's life. But Alison he could not understand; she
seemed to have cast care to the winds. She appeared at breakfast in the
gayest of spirits, spent the entire morning and most of the afternoon on
deck, the centre of an animated group shepherded by the indefatigable
Mrs. Ilkington, dressed herself radiantly for the grand final dinner,
flirted with the assiduously attentive Arkroyd until she had reduced
Staff to the last stages of corroded jealousy, and in general (as Staff
found a chance to tell her) seemed to be having the time of her life.

"And why not?" she countered. "Spilt milk!"

"Judged by your conduct," observed Staff, "one would be justified in
thinking the Cadogan collar an _article de Paris_."

"One might think any number of foolish things, dear boy. If the collar's
gone, it's gone, and not all the moping and glooming imaginable will
bring it back to me. If