But I should say there were twenty at least the size of a large pea, and a dozen that would double that, all faintly tinted pink. The back of the string seemed made up of small ones, an odd and end lot, quite negligible. Whether those at the back were pink I could not see: there was a very bad light. But the middle ones would sell for a fortune in New York, if we can get them there. The latest craze of the Five Hundred is for pearls, and pink pearls head the market."

"You'll never get them out of this house without detection and exposure, let alone across the Atlantic. Give it up, Flossie: your scheme is a bad egg. I'm off on Monday, and I shall take you with me. That's my last word."

It might be Reginald Noyes's last word, but it was not Flossie's. Many words followed on the lady's part: indeed discussions and recriminations raged till the small hours, of which the result only need be noted. The couple would remain over the dance and until the following Saturday, and Mrs. Noyes held herself at liberty to pursue the course she had planned, and possess herself (if she could) of the pearls. And the following instructions were issued to the obedient Reginald, a little later on.

"Look here. I want you to engage Mrs. Noel for the fourth dance: it is a valse. No, I know you don't valse well, but that does not matter. The big saloon is cleared for dancing on account of the oak floor, but the flirtation nooks and refreshments will be in the hall. Get her to sit out with you, and take her to the nook right in the corner, left of fireplace, the one from which you see the stairs. It is shut in at the back with palms and evergreens, and there is a high-backed seat. Take her there while the dancing is still going on, and the hall is empty: tell her you want to confide in her: keep her engrossed."

"I can take her there—good: but as to confiding! What the devil am I to confide? She's the last sort of girl to stand love-making, and we haven't an idea in common. As you said once before."

"Talk to her about the ghost. Tell her you've seen it, with the tallest story you can make up— sulphur and brimstone, horns and hoofs, and all the diabolical horrors. She'll believe you, for on that subject she would swallow anything. If you do that, you'll have her fixed—for as long as will suit my purpose. You understand?"

The morning of Wednesday, Mrs. Noyes developed a headache. It was most tiresome of it to come when it did, and she accepted sympathy freely, and swallowed the offered remedies, which was heroic. To lose the dance would disappoint her, more acutely than words could say. No, not the actual dance; she must give up that in any case, for it would be impossible with such a giddy head. But if she could get better—ever such a little better—she would still hope to watch the spectacle from some quiet corner, where she would not be in the way. She was sure dear Lady MacIvor would excuse her arraying herself in the elaborate costume which had been arranged, and in which she was to be a poudre. But she happened to have with her a dark domino and half-mask, which would do well enough, and this she could throw on at the last moment if she felt able to come down.