"Well, this particular lady died--or at least they thought she was dead, and they planted--that's to say, buried her, in the vault attached to the chapel--I'll show you the place later on. She had a wedding-ring which was supposed to carry special luck to its wearer--it was rolled out of a piece of gold looted from a joss-house by some adventurous Manners. Anyhow, she was buried with this ring on, and in the night, one of the gardeners thought that, being alive and having use for good luck, he might as well have the ring as leave it where it was." "Oh," said Miss Mayne, "I know the story--never mind, go on!" She turned and stared curiously at the impassive features of the lady. "Well, the gardener got hold of the ring; he'd been apprenticed to a burglar as a lad before he took up gardening, and he had strong nerves as well. The trouble was that he couldn't separate the ring from the lady, and he didn't want her. He pulled hard, but he couldn't get it off. Not for nuts." "I know what _I_ should have done," said Cornelius James. "I should have cut off her finger." "Corney!" protested his shocked sisters. "Well, that was more or less his idea. The trouble was he hadn't got a knife--he wasn't a sailor; but he had been the next best thing for the purpose--a dog-fancier." "I thought you said he had been a burglar?" interposed Jane severely. Consistency in details she invariably insisted upon when told a story. "Oh," gasped Miss Mayne, as the significance of the gardener's former pursuit suddenly became plain, "you surely don't mean----" "He was in a hurry. P'raps the job was getting on his nerves after all. He started in, and when he was half-way through the lady sat up. She wasn't dead--only in a trance." "What did the gardener do?" asked Cornelius James feverishly. "At the time he ran away," replied Mouldy in sepulchral tones, "but later on he repented and joined the Church." "And the lady lived happily ever afterwards?" insisted Jane the punctilious. "Certainly," said Mouldy. "And now, before we have tea, I'll show you all the ring." He ran up the stairway at the end of the gallery and returned a few minutes later with a little casket. "It is supposed to bring luck to any woman who slips it on her wedding finger," said the host, opening the lid and taking out a heavy plain ring. "Let me put it on," said Georgina. She extended a slim sunburnt paw, and Mouldy gravely slipped it on the third finger of her left hand. "What a weight," she said, and turned her hand admiringly, contemplating it after the manner of women, with her head on one side. "Do you feel all funny?" inquired Jane, with obvious anxiety. "The luck----" "No, silly," replied her sister. "Here, you put it on." She drew it off and slipped it on Jane's small finger. "Now Miss Mayne." Miss Mayne shook her head laughingly. "No," she said, "my luck doesn't want any improving. I'm quite content with everything as it is."