badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the middle of the

night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose and, looking out, was

surprised to see his cousin walking very stealthily along the passage until she

disappeared into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad

slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would come of

this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the

light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in

her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along

and slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see what passed

in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the

coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to

her room, passing quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain.


“As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a

horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that she was gone

he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for you, and how

all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his

bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane,

where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried to

get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was a struggle between them, your

lad tugging at one side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the

scuffle, your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something

suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his hands,

rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your room, and had just observed

that the coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was endeavouring to

straighten it when you appeared upon the scene.”


“Is it possible?” gasped the banker.