“We can’t do better than consult the Metropolitan Secret Agency,” he answered. “If they can’t help us I don’t believe anybody can. Have you the numbers of the notes?” “No.” “The Agency may be able to trace the pearls, anyhow. There are only a few places in England and on the Continent where stolen pearls of that sort can be disposed of, and Stothert was telling me only the other day that he knows the whereabouts of every receiver of stolen goods in this country, and on the Continent, too.” The footman, having delivered the letters, retired, closing the door behind him. Stapleton and Jessica looked at each other oddly. “Let us go and find Archie,” she said, preparing to rise. “You say he told you he might remain at home?” But at that moment the door opened, and the footman, entering again, announced: “Captain Preston and Mr. Blenkiron.” Jessica bit her lip. Then, as the visitors came in, she received them with her dazzling smile. “How glad I am to see you after all this time,” she exclaimed. “Mr. Stapleton was speaking of you not five minutes ago, and I asked him what had become of you both--I thought you must have left town.” “I am rarely in town,” Blenkiron said. “I live in the country, you know.” “So you do. I had forgotten. But you, Captain Preston, I never see you anywhere. Don’t you live in town?” “Yes, but I rarely go about; my leg is such a handicap, you see. We happened to be passing, so I suggested our calling on the chance of finding you at home. I have not been here since you gave that delightful musical At Home--eight or nine months ago it must have been--but I shall never forget the way your friend sang Tchaikowsky’s ‘None but the Weary Heart.’ It was too gorgeous.” “Are you so fond of music? You are not like most soldiers.” “The one thing I love.” “The _one_ thing?” she laughed mischievously. “That I can hardly believe!” For an instant their eyes met. Hers were laughing, mischievous still. His had grown suddenly hard. “Some one told me the other day,” Blenkiron happened to remark, “that you lived at one time in Queensland, Mrs. Mervyn-Robertson. I have been a great deal in Australia. Was it long ago?” “Longer than I like to think about,” she answered. “I was a girl when my parents sent me home.” “You mean to England?” “Yes.” “What town were you in, or near, when you lived in Queensland?” “Monkarra--if one can call it a town,” she answered. “Indeed! I know Monkarra. I have been there several times. I wonder I never met you or your people.” “Australia is a big place, Mr. Blenkiron.” “But its population is small, and Monkarra, as you say, is only a hamlet. Some one told me your father’s name was Robertson.” “People seem to have been talking a lot to you about me,” she said quickly. “And can you be surprised?” The words conveyed two meanings, and Jessica turned the conversation.