That she recognised her husband there could be no doubt, but there was a dreadful apprehension in her eyes. No word, however, could then be interchanged.

"Your wife has had a shock of some kind, and collapse has followed. Most likely the wind frightened her. I understand the people here consider it supernatural, and I am ready to confess it was odd, though I don't give in to spooks. You had better let the maid settle Mrs. Noyes comfortably for the night, and I daresay Mrs. Holbrook, the housekeeper, will sit up."

"No, no," Noyes obiected. "Nobody need sit up. I can look after her: the women need not stay. You think there is no danger?"

"No danger that I foresee: she is reviving quite satisfactorily. But I will come up again before I leave. I shall find you here?"

Noyes assented, and expressed his thanks. Then, when he had shut the door upon the doctor, he went back to the bed. His wife's eyes met his, filled with the same agony of fear.

"Are—the women—gone?" she panted.

"Yes for the moment, but they are coming back. Where are the pearls?"

"I don't know—I don't know!"

"You had them. Where did you put them when you left the hall?"

"Inside the bosom of my dress—within everything—next to the skin. When I came to myself, all my clothing had been opened. They must have found! Unless, indeed, the pearls were taken—when—"

Speech failed, a violent shudder convulsed her, the apprehension in her face deepened into horror. The hand he had taken in his clutched him hard.

"Why—what——?"

"The wind came: it was more than wind—it was anger, fury. It seems, when I look back, there was a face with it; or I dreamed the face after. A face that was terrible. I was so near safety when it came: a few more steps: and I was full of triumph. The wind struck me down. I knew no more till I found myself in here, and the women with me. Do you think the pearls—were taken—when I fell?"

After the fateful interruption of the wind, and a general dismay over Caryl's loss, the dance was not kept up late. The first gay frolic of it was only half-heartedly renewed, and the guests did not find much appetite for the excellent supper. It was but little after one o'clock when Sir Ian closed the great doors upon the last departure, and retreated to his den. Caryl had put in his hands the quaint antique brooch worn to fasten her dress as Lady Sibell, and again she made tearful expression of her sorrow over the loss of the pearls.

"I think they will be given back," he said: this and no more.

His errand to the den was to replace the brooch. He unlocked the safe with his own key, a key that had no duplicate, and never left his possession. He opened the steel-clamped casket to lay the brooch within, and there, safe and unharmed, was the gleaming roseate string, the heirloom pearls of Dunowe.

A few minutes later he knocked at his brother's door.

"Noel! it is I, Ian, I want to speak to you."

Noel opened at once: he was in pyjamas, and had been on the point of getting into bed.

"What is it, old fellow?"

"Only to tell you that the pearls are found.