One thinks quickly in emergencies, and women have one advantage over men. They can think very hard while they are talking about an entirely different subject. His next question gave me a cue. He came forward and leaned on the table, near the candle. I could see he was not very old after all--not nearly so old as I had expected. "I know it isn't my affair at all," he began, half smiling, "but--I am under the impression that the Hall has been closed for some years. And yet--I find a young woman here alone, surrounded by--er--dust and decay. It's a sort of reversed Sleeping Beauty and the Prince. _You_ should have been asleep. As you say, it isn't my affair, but--what in the world brought you here?" (When I told this afterward Poppy said: "It sounds exactly like him, of course.") "I came to steal the silver," I said brazenly. That was my plan, you see. If he would only take me away and give me in charge he would be safely out of the way and beyond interfering. And the next morning, when everything was over, I would tell my real name and be released, and everything would be over. Something had to be done at once, for, as Daphne said, "to kidnap the Prime Minister would be a _coup d'état_, but to try to do it and fail would be low comedy." When I said I was stealing the silver, which was certainly not worth five guineas, Mr. Harcourt took a step back and caught hold of a chair. "Really!" he said. And then: "But what in the world did you intend doing with it?--if you don't mind the question." This was unexpected, but I rose to the occasion. "Melt it," I declared. I thought this was inspired. Don't they always melt down stolen silver? "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "You _are_ experienced!" Then he sat down suddenly in the chair and coughed very hard into his handkerchief. But he made no move to arrest me. "Aren't you going to give me in charge?" I asked in alarm, for time was flying. He put away his handkerchief. "Wouldn't that be a horrible thing for me to do?" he asked gravely. "Perhaps it's your first offence, you know, although I doubt that. You seem so capable. And if I let you go you may reform. Take my word for it, there's nothing to a life of crime. I suppose you--er--appropriated the string of pearls that are not imitation?" This was unexpected. "It is mine, honestly mine, Mr. Harcourt," I began. He glanced at me when I called him by name. Then he took the collar out and looked at it. "I shall advertise it," he said judicially and slid it back into his pocket. "If the owner offers a reward I will see that you get it--minus the newspaper costs, of course." Then--we both heard it at the same moment--there came the throb of the machine down the drive. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at me. "More people after the silver, probably," he said, and picked up the candle. I slipped after him to the entrance hall.