"That they were hers."

Mr. Anstruther looked her up and down; then he took the open case from
her hand, snapped it to, and slipped it into his pocket.

"And so they are hers," he said. "Does your assertion that my
granddaughter is a burglar and a thief rest on any other evidence but
this?"

"N--no," faltered Hilary, feeling smaller and of less account than she
had ever felt in her life before.

"Then do me the favour of not addressing me again while I remain in this
house," said Mr. Anstruther; and turning his back upon the now thoroughly
discomfited girl, he resumed his conversation with Mrs. Danvers at the
point at which it had been broken off. And Hilary shrank back behind the
others, and received scant comfort for the snubbing she had got from any
of them.

"I did my best to stop you making such an awful goat of yourself,"
whispered Edward. "Couldn't you see that that precious bit of proof of
yours was just so much evidence for the other side? He had just told us
that Miss Carson's name was Margaret Anstruther, and Margaret was written
inside the locket, wasn't it, and the initial outside was 'A'?"

Hilary nodded, too mortified even to speak. Now that it was too late she
did see the silly, stupid blunder she had made, and she could have bitten
out her tongue with annoyance.

"As I was saying, madam," Mr. Anstruther had gone on directly he had
finished with Hilary, "my granddaughter has been known to you by the name
of Eleanor Carson. This," and he waved his hand in the direction of
Eleanor, "is the--the young lady whom you engaged to be your holiday
governess. She met my granddaughter at a railway station some way up
the line, and decided to change names and addresses. My granddaughter
came here, and Miss Carson went up to the house of a friend where I had
arranged for my granddaughter to stay; and she deceived this lady as
completely as my granddaughter has deceived you."

"Miss Carson not Miss Carson at all!" murmured Mrs. Danvers. "Well, of
all the extraordinary things I ever heard! And so it is you," glancing
at Eleanor, "that my old friend Miss McDonald sent down to me. Dear me,
who would have believed such a thing! I used to wonder sometimes why
Miss Carson--Miss Anstruther, I should say--was always so reluctant to
speak about Hampstead. Now I suppose it was because she had never been
there. Yes, that must have been it. And that accounts, too, for Miss
Carson--Miss Anstruther, I mean--speaking in